Blood In The Bones
by gray03
Summary: The magic is in the blood. The blood is in the bones.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Blood in the Bones

Authors: Karolyn Gray

Synopsis: The magic is in the blood. The blood is in the bones.

Rating: PG-13/T+ (for violence and disturbing imagery. (Just to be safe.))

Season: post-S2 Alternate Universe

Word Count: 65,000+

Author's Notes: Thanks to my beta readers: pkdefender, Nat, Scar, Abell, and Gore for their efforts in wading through this story. Any errors that may remains are my fault alone.

Chapter 1

"_The nightmare came to me again last night. It is pre-dawn and I can feel the anticipation from the men. Even Cara is on edge more than usual. I think she feels that today is important. Important in that way no one ever speaks of until after the event has occurred. Though my mind should be focused on what I must do today, I cannot feel my thoughts drift to them, to her most of all. Their absence weights heavily on me especially with what I have done, and what I will do here today at Tamarang._

_May the spirits forgive me."_

- Final entry, Richard Rahl's Campaign Journal.

She tread silently over the earth churned by the passage of many men and beasts easily winding her way through debris, discarded weapons, crates, and men rushing about their duties. The surprisingly chill mid-summer air thumped with the mangonel's release and the accompanying rumble as their projectiles struck their foe, with the occasional almost haunting whispers of arrows released from the archers, the cries of men in battle, and the constant murmur of the wizards casting their magic. The light breeze brought the smells of battle: blood, smoke, burnt flesh, and more, along with the cloying hint of pine from the mountains, sweet summer grass from the distant surrounding fields, and loamy earthiness of the nearby forests.

Her skin tight leather clung to her skin, supple enough to let her move unhindered and without sound. The gentle tattoo of her long braid along her back timed to her stride was comforting, bringing confidence, and as a mark of her position, her status. And, for her, at least, it was a reminder of her life's purpose. Her leather's red color quickly provided her an opening through the massed men in her path, each quick to move with a nod of acknowledgement, respect, and fear. As she approached her goal Cara slowed slightly taking in the sight before her, quickly nodding in satisfaction at the army's arrangement before focusing on her primary concern.

A perimeter of twelve Mord-Sith stood twenty paces away and encircling the Lord Rahl, who had just dismissed a D'Haran captain. He turned to watch her approach as if sensing her arrival. She would not have been surprised if he had. Like his brother, he seemed to have an uncanny ability to sense trouble. Also like his brother he seemed to have a preternatural sense of all that was around him, seen and unseen, that he readily made use of. As she closed the distance between them Cara allowed herself a moment to peruse Richard Rahl's dress noting the differences between himself and his predecessor.

He wore not the traditional robes of the Lord Rahl but instead a soft leather armor of deep maroon over a dark tunic. He went without the mail and plate his troops wearing similar armor favored claiming he preferred mobility. Her experience fighting at his side confirmed this fact. The tougher leather shoulder guards bore the symbol of the House of Rahl. The leather was also tooled with symbols of magic and other arcane emblems he claimed to merely find pleasing and without significance. Underneath this he wore a simple maroon dyed linen shirt more akin to a woods guide or commoner, long sleeves rolled up to his elbows so that the old, well worn and well oiled leather arm braces snugly wrapped his forearms. His leather pants, not too dissimilar in cut to those he'd warn since the day she met him, were of matching deep maroon leather, tucked into heavy black boots. A thin light knife was sheathed into his right boot.

For those unfamiliar with him, he would seem to be nothing more than an officer in the D'Haran Army, not the Lord Rahl. She knew he had the traditional gold trimmed, red robe associated with the Lord Rahl available for inclement weather or occasions when he needed to appear more formal, but in the field with the army he preferred this simple leather armor.

As she came to a halt beside him, she noted the engraved tooth hanging from a leather thong had slipped out from between the unbuttoned collar of his shirt and now hung just above the leather armor encasing his chest. Around his waist was a well crafted and ornately tooled belt with a few pouches of varying sizes and colors and his sword's scabbard gleaming brightly in the summer sun. As she nodded her greeting she noted his hand gripped the hilt of the Sword of Truth tightly enough that the whites of his knuckles showed as he turned to observe the conflict before them.

"I've just received word by journey book that Kurr has rejoined the Minders at the People's Palace," Cara informed him noting his eyes watching the battle before them intently.

"Good."

She knew he would say no more on the matter. He was already well aware of her opinion about sending some of his personal guard away even knowing that circumstances required it in this instance.

The Minders had first joined Richard shortly after his departure from Aydindril and his first victory over his rivals to the throne of D'Hara. Their sudden appearance had been surprising as had been their claim that they had unanimously felt drawn to Richard, still drawn by his anger and the escalating war despite being bereft of his sword. The following weeks as followers flocked to Richard's banner he and Cara had taken the time to train the Minders into a force that all but the Mord-Sith feared. The bond to Richard and their fearlessness in battle quickly made them near legendary guards of the Lord Rahl. Just as the Minders fed off his rage and skill in battle, over the campaign to become Master of D'Hara he had discovered they fueled his own ferocity. In this battle today, though, Cara well aware the Minders presence would have distracted him from what he needed to do here.

A quick wave of his fingers from his free hand was followed by a bright flash and sharp clap of thunder as a barrage from the enemy trebuchet was incinerated before it could strike into the heart of the D'Haran forces before them. It was an impressive sight to behold considering her knowledge of Richard's magical ability. An ability repeatedly shown to be absent when tested by D'Hara's most knowledgeable masters yet clearly evident at times like this. She was well aware he found his ability worrisome as had the wizards under his command.

A wizard at the nearest mangonel jerked and glared towards them as Richard twitched his fingers again causing the projectile the device had just launched to burn intensely with Wizard's Fire. The wizard's expression earned him a cool rebuke from Cara in return.

"Must Lord Rahl do all the work, wizard Hennik? Perhaps your lazy bones would feel more urgency in your work were you leading the charge?" she asked calmly, in an almost pleasant voice.

One of her fellow sisters of the Agiel broke from their defensive cordon around Lord Rahl and said something to Hennik that made his face blanch. Cara smiled slightly as the wizard quickly turned and redoubled his efforts in casting his protective webs while the Mord-Sith returned to her position. Cara returned her own eyes to the battle noting the hint of a smile from Richard even as the knuckles on his hand gripping the sword whitened further with his increased tension.

For several long minutes they watched the battle rage, the D'Haran archers launching wave after wave of arrows into the massed forces arrayed before them that moved inexorably forward even as seemingly hundreds fell. Quads would rush out to crush enemy elements that managed to survive the deadly field of Dragon's Breath mines before they came too close to the line of pike men, swordsmen, and cavalry awaiting their orders to charge into the enemy lines before withdrawing back to the D'Haran lines. Even the spelled mangonel projectiles and Wizard's Fire tearing gaping wholes into the enemy formation seemed to have little effect. In return, the enemy's attacks were surprisingly easily blocked by the arrayed wizards, sorcerers, sorceresses, and lone witch Lord Rahl had gathered on the behalf of D'Hara.

A loud sigh brought Cara out of her observations with surprise as she turned her attention to Richard. He was no longer watching the battle but looking over the valley and the mountains above Tamarang with an oddly wistful expression on his face.

"Is something wrong?" She asked quietly enough so that not even the nearby guards and Mord-Sith could hear.

He turned his dark eyes to her with an indecipherable expression on his face. "I thought the weather would be foul the day I died."

Cara's eyebrows went up at his words. Speechless she watched as he again perused the surrounding countryside as if searching for something. After a moment she chuckled, certain he was trying to bring levity to the situation at hand. Making a show of it she looked to the clear sky and waved her hand exaggeratedly.

"Well, my Lord, it seems today is a fine day that is anything but foul. I dare say it's the clearest day we've had in years," she replied with a teasing tone.

"So it would seem," he replied chillingly.

Cara leaned closer when she saw not a trace of humor in his demeanor and became concerned over the magic he intended to release on their enemies. A magic Richard had admitted in confidence terrified him with its power. "Is there something wrong with the magic?"

"No, it's fine. Not time yet, but soon," he assured, gesturing to a pouch on his belt.

A slight breeze ruffled his hair as he seemed to contemplate the sky once more. "I saw a vision of my death."

"When was this?" Cara was curious at this information knowing Richard usually dismissed visions and prophecies. Since leaving Aydindril she had become Richard's confidant in all things, his most trusted guard, advisor, and strangely, close friend. She knew well many of his attitudes even when she greatly disagreed with them.

"At the People's Palace the night after I became Lord Rahl," he replied quietly. "I had it again the day I found the device and every night since I decided to end this war by using it."

"Perhaps you should speak with the wizards about this," Cara ventured.

"No, they already oppose this action but to do otherwise I fear would be far worse for our people and the people of the Midlands," Richard disagreed.

"Then tell me about this dream," she asked not really expecting him to do so.

"It's not clear, really," Richard started hesitantly. "Mostly images, words I don't understand, flashes of moments, perhaps memories of what will be. But I remember some if it. The clouds are dark, foreboding, with thunder and lightning. There are strange beasts that tear people asunder. Wolves, yet not wolves. They are monsters that I think even the Keeper would fear to gaze upon."

"Well obviously no such beasts are here. And the weather is fair," Cara noted earning a nod of acknowledgement of her point.

"Zedd was there. And Kah…." He stopped suddenly stiffening as his face went impassive at the pain Cara knew slice through him whenever he mentioned the pair. After a deep breath he shook his head. "First Wizard Zorander and the Mother Confessor were there. And you, of course. But I was in agony between the world of the living and the world of the dead. I'm certain of it."

"Well there you go then. They aren't here and appear not be coming. I am here. I see no tears in the veil. The weather is fine," she replied waving her hand dismissively. "The only ones who should fear dying are those fools who dare stand against the Lord Rahl on this battlefield today."

She leaned in with a fierce expression pointing her Agiel at his chest. The mock poking gesture merely earned an amused look much to her consternation and annoyance. Even after years of service she was not quite sure of how to deal with her new found inability to instill in him any fear of her as a Mord-Sith. She supposed friendship had a way of dulling such terror.

She waved her hand vaguely to the battle as she continued. "Once you've finished with this minor inconvenience you and I shall have a long talk about such visions and anything else you've kept from me."

"Of course, Mistress Cara," Richard readily agreed but concern marred his expression, drawing his brows down in a deep frown. "But you feel it don't you? That feeling that something important is going to happen. That what I do today may cause my vision to come to pass."

"Richard, I've felt your importance everyday since the day I met you. For me, today feels no different than yesterday or the day before that and beyond even that," Cara stated matter-of-factly.

Richard nodded, his expression suddenly taking on a faraway look, a strange glinting light entering his dark eyes that she recognized as the magic flaring within him. She felt a strange frenetic energy seem to enliven the air around him. A tremor of fear traitorously made its way down her spine before she crushed it under her will and training, knowing Richard would never harm her and that Lord Rahl would persevere to protect all of D'Hara.

"It's time. Signal General Bain." His raspy voice seemed to add urgency to her actions even as she complied.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"_You continue to persist in you unsubstantiated claims that it is D'Hara that attacks your lands and those of your neighbors yet all that is found is bandits. I've suffered you tirades against our neighbors and tolerated your insinuations over my relations with the former Seeker for too long. To maintain peace in the council I've banished the D'Harans from the Midlands, restricted trade with them, and yet you persist in this path to war. " _

- excerpt diplomatic letter from Mother Confessor Kahlan Amnell to Prince Fyren of Kelton.

The steady beat of hooves on the path provided a soothing rhythm to the four riders as they rushed through the surprisingly cool summer morning. The air carried the scent of loamy earth, the gently swaying grasses, and the pines scattered ahead of them as the started to rise up the trail that would take them to the valley they knew was on the other side.

Kahlan smiled slightly to herself at the feel of the wind through her long, dark hair, how it tugged at her white Confessor's dress and brought an exhilarating flush to her skin. It had been years since she had ridden this hard, with such purpose. Her eagerness to reach their goal of the castle at Tamarang quickened her heart with a strange mix of trepidation and excitement. A quick glance to her nearest riding companion brought some relief to her nervousness, seeing it mirrored ever so slightly on his weathered face by the slight pursing of his lips. An expression Kahlan had witnessed enough times over the years to know the wizard was in deep thought.

Time had been kind to the old man. While lean with a hint of scrawniness due to his tall stature, his blue eyes sparkled with intelligence and humor. Those eyes combined with his wild locks of white hair fluttering behind as he rode with an ease of men a third his age, gave him a youthful energy and vigor that belied his wrinkles and worn weathered features. Of course Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander, Wizard of the First Order, would be eager as she to reach Tamarang. The recent years had been burdensome for the older man, though Kahlan did her best to support and comfort Zedd as if he were her own grandfather. She owed Zedd that much for his guidance, compassion, and understanding. But even more importantly to her, Zedd was family.

Kahlan glanced over her shoulder to the trailing guards behind her, noting with satisfaction their alert eyes, scanning the country side even as they rode hard, seemingly heedless of the weight of their weapons and mail armor. Unlike the other rare times when she had soldiers from Aydindril as escort, these did not wear the tunics or capes that proclaimed them as part of the Mother Confessor's personal guards or soldiers of Aydindril. Instead they wore simple brown cloaks and tunics, unadorned with any embellishment or symbol of status or rank. Knowing it was at Zedd's insistence they travel inconspicuously, she turned her attention to the forthcoming arrival at Tamarang. While the old wizard refused to reveal his reasons for such an unusual decision, she did not press him on the issue trusting his judgment more than anyone else save Richard Rahl.

The thought of Richard brought another strange roiling wave of anticipation and trepidation as it had every time she had thought of him for the past three years. She knew her mixed feelings were well justified after what she and Zedd and done to him. She shook her head slightly, mentally berating herself.

"After what _I_ did to him," she murmured to herself as she quickly brushed a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. It was a gesture that reminded of that dark time a few years ago. A time that should have been her happiest moment in life was torn asunder by the necessity of duty and calling.

Richard, Cara, and Zedd had settled in Aydindril when she had reasserted the authority of the Confessors over the Midlands and things had gone well for a time. While she returned the rule of the law in the Midlands, Richard, when not spending time with Zedd at the Wizard's Keep, had devoted much of his attention on her.

It had been an exhilarating time of peace and prosperity and personal joy but word soon reached Aydindril of trouble in the land of D'Hara. Bloody wars raged between Darken Rahl's commanders for control of the once powerful empire after rumors of his mysterious death for a second and final time. That trouble had eventually spilled over into the Midlands as at first D'Haran traders looking for alternate buyers of their wares and then refugees fled the fighting. Warlords looking for land and plunder followed them.

Not unexpectedly, Cara asked Richard to return to D'Hara to claim the throne and end the fighting. Richard had refused though Kahlan could see in his eyes that it hurt him to see the refugees who had reached Aydindril in such poor condition, to hear their tales of the war and its accompanying horror, particularly for the very young. Richard soon spent much time with the refugees assisting them in anyway he could. In return they gave valuable information about the goings on in D'Hara. When Cara let slip Richard was in fact the Lord Rahl, the refugees' hero worship and respect for his assistance blossomed into unadulterated joy and fanatical loyalty. The D'Haran refugees were certain Richard was merely bidding his time before he would save D'Hara from itself.

Resentment grew in the Midlands over the presence of the D'Haran refugees. Along with the resentment came increasing anger by the people of the Midlands who still remembered the predations they had suffered by the D'Haran invaders. Soon the anger had erupted into violence, violence that had to be put down by Kahlan's own orders and Richard acting on her behalf as Seeker. While Richard was away assisting Dennee on such a diplomatic mission Zedd approached her with a plan that would see Richard assume the throne of D'Hara and end the fighting. She refused to back the idea until the night of the Winter Festival when a group of nobles had accosted Richard and Cara during the ball held at the Confessor's Palace. No one had been hurt in the brief but vocal scuffle, but the message clear to all that Richard, Cara, and all D'Harans were not welcome in the Midlands and Kahlan's continued support of them would cause a rift with the Council.

The following day she went to Zedd and agreed with his plan to convince Richard to seek the throne of D'Hara. They both underestimated Richard's stubborn determination to stay in Aydindril to remain with her and continue his wizard training. Nothing Zedd did would change his mind. Not Zedd's claim that he could teach Richard nothing more. Not even when he took the Sword of Truth from Richard claiming he had another path that was incompatible with that of a Seeker. Richard simply accepted his grandfather's words without recrimination, disappointment, or anger.

No, it was her proclamation that all those not from the Midlands were required to leave the territory or face forced relocation that brought Richard into a righteous fury directed at her. It was something she never wanted to experience again.

Her own words haunted her to this day, remembering the smoldering anger in his eyes, as she banished him from Aydindril and the Midlands until the D'Harans stopped the attacks and her dire warning that if they didn't stop soon, the Midlands would be forced to make war upon D'Hara.

Richard had believed her and agreed to leave. It was Zedd's stoic support that kept her from backing off her threat the day Richard left Aydindril leading the D'Haran refugees from the city through throngs of angry people. Even then she had almost relented in allowing her heart to override her head as he stood before her with one last plea.

"_I don't know why you're doing this, Kahlan," he said quietly. "But I know you don't want me to leave."_

"_It doesn't matter what I want. I am the Mother Confessor," she replied firmly. She was grateful for her years of Confessor training in hiding her crumbling heart. "You will leave the Midlands immediately."_

_She saw his pain filled eyes look over to Zedd with a beseeching look. "Zedd, please, you know this is wrong. You're her counsel."_

"_And who do you think counseled her to make this decision, Richard," Zedd had replied cuttingly, deliberately cruel. "It's time for you to stop being selfish. Attend to your birthright. We can do no more for you."_

_The look of hurt and anger on Richard's face made her want to cry, but none more so than the sudden blank expression that fell across his features. He had simply bowed his head curtly. _

"_As you wish, Mother Confessor. First Wizard," he spat the titles out as if they were the foulest of the Keeper's own minions. And with that swiftly headed toward the pair of the finest horses she could procure for him and Cara. It was disorienting looking at him in simple woods guide clothes without the Sword of Truth or any accompanying weapon save a simple unadorned boot knife as he exchanged brief words with her sister, Dennee, who held the reigns of the horses with a troubled expression._

_She had been surprised as Cara leaned in slightly towards them, well oiled leather creaking gently, with a sympathetic look. "He will forgive you both someday," she said softly. With a slight nod she made a vow, "And the people of D'Hara will remember and thank you for your sacrifice. I will make sure of it."_

That day was the last she had seen him in three years, though she had been sorely tested since to contact him. All but one time Zedd had convinced her of the necessity to remain detached from him. The lone instance were she had defied the wizard had resulted in silence and hurt for her efforts.

She took solace in the fact that Zedd had been correct in that Richard would unite D'Hara. The attacks on the Midlands had ended within nine months of Richard's departure and word had reached them another three months later of Richard's ascension to Lord Rahl. And yet still no word was ever sent, ambassadorial overtures rejected at the border, and traders refused access to D'Haran territory. Even a secret diplomatic letter written in her hand was returned unopened and unread, the courier so badly shaken by his encounter with Lord Rahl that he would not speak of it and had quit his service to the Confessors. The poor man was said to be living as a hermit in the hills and forests around Aydindril.

But something has changed. Nearly a year ago disturbing reports had started coming in of raids and attacks on towns and villages. They were first dismissed as bandits with the assorted armies of the Midlands more than capable of dealing with them. But soon the attackers became fiercer, defeating standing armies with ease. Some feared it was the D'Harans, a fear that was further bolstered when a squadron of D'Harans was found dead near the lands of Kelton. Despite the evidence, or perhaps because of the fear the news aroused, no land desired to make war on D'Hara much to Kahlan's relief.

She was certain Richard would never have attacked the Midlands. At least she had been until the Sword of Truth was stolen out of the Wizard's Keep several months ago. Though Zedd never said how the sword was stolen, he informed her that Richard had possession of the Sword and it was imperative to reestablish relations if for no other reason than to prevent a war between the Midlands and D'Hara being started over misunderstandings. She had agreed, personally commissioning a charter alliance to paper, though she feared there would be no response. She had been overjoyed upon receiving Richard's response to complete agreement of the treaty and proposed it be signed at Tamarang, a place of neutral ground acceptable to both sides due to Tamarang's ties to both D'Hara and the Midlands.

A sound of distant thunder brought Kahlan out of her disturbing reverie, slowing her steed, as she looked skyward in expectation. Seeing no storm clouds nearby or on the far horizon, she shared a concerned look with Zedd. Another thunderous rumble convinced her to bring her horse to a halt, gently patting the brown mare to sooth the suddenly spooked animal.

"Zedd?"

"I'm not sure. It's not…." Another thunderous rumble roiled around them followed by what sounded like a crack of lightning. The sound seemed to echo over the ridgeline they were near to cresting.

"You don't think something is wrong at Tamarang?" Kahlan asked with concern as she watched Zedd carefully scrutinizing the ridge.

"Something's not right. There's magic, powerful magic, nearby," Zedd cautioned.

"A trap?" One of the guardsmen asked warily.

"It's not Richard's way," Kahlan snapped in annoyance but calmed herself at Zedd's gentle look.

"Be calm," he smiled softly. "I'm sure it's nothing. Perhaps the boy has decided to do a bit of conjuring. He was always good at that."

Kahlan smiled weakly at Zedd's words, remembering Richard driving Zedd and several of the wizards to distraction with his conjuring spells, something which he had excelled at during his brief time at the Keep despite his lack of magical ability. Most had been simple diversions, and the occasional prank on a particularly vexing person. The most elaborate had been conjuring a very realistic illusion of a dragon during the harvest festival the year before he left that had delighted the revelers.

"Zedd," she admonished gently. As much as she would have liked to believe such frivolous behavior was the cause of what they were hearing, she feared it was not so.

The old wizard sat taller in his saddle with a determined look on his face. "Well then, let's see what the trouble is."

They quickly resumed their path up the ridge towards a small copse of trees. Shortly before reaching the trees a dozen men in heavy mail and plate armor quickly moved from the woods blocking the path. Kahlan recognized the green cloth and insignias as belonging to the lands of Kelton even as a Keltish lieutenant brandishing his sword stepped forward.

"In the name of Lord Rahl, halt!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"_Forgive my terseness but duties require I make this brief. Tamarang it is. I look forward to the encounter. May the Creator guide us with Her wisdom._

_May the spirits protect you,_

_Lord Richard Rahl, _

_Master of D'Hara" _

- Missive attached to the Treaty of Tamarang as delivered by Minister Channen.

"Who dares challenge the Mother Confessor?" Zedd demanded. His eyes blazed in outrage over the Lieutenant's behavior, even as her guards hurriedly moved to more defensible positions beside their charge. Kahlan raised her hand to ward them off from drawing their swords uncertain what the presence of these Keltish soldiers in the lands of Tamarang meant. More puzzling was their invoking the name of Lord Rahl.

"Mother Confessor?" The Lieutenant asked with a surprised expression. At her nod he gestured to the Keltish warriors nearby who sheathed their weapons.

"What is your purpose here?" Kahlan asked voice carefully neutral despite the apparent inoffensive nature of the men before her now.

"My apologies, Mother Confessor." The Keltish Lieutenant sheathed his weapon and bowed low to the ground. "Lord Rahl informed us of your impending arrival yesterday but when you did not show we feared the worst."

"And you are?"

"Lieutenant Tybal Praven, Mother Confessor," he replied immediately, giving her a quick salute that was echoed by his men. She noted his curious expression as he looked to the trail they had followed before quickly returning his gaze to her with a puzzled expression. "Is your van far behind?"

The question sparked Kahlan's own growing concern and puzzlement "My van?"

"Lord Rahl said he expected your van," Praven explained quickly, gesturing to his men. "When you did not arrive yesterday we became concerned but our orders remained unchanged. Protect the pass and wait for the signal."

"What signal?"

"The signal for the final assault against the enemy, Mother Confessor." Praven flashed a quick grin. His grin faded at the blank looks he received from Kahlan and her companions. "Your van is coming, yes? I know the Dragon Corps could deal with these barbarians alone, but having the assistance of the Midlands would end the battle more quickly."

"Battle? Barbarians? What in the name of the spirits are you talking about?" Zedd asked gesticulating towards Praven as his men.

"I'm afraid I have no idea of what you speak of Lieutenant Praven," Kahlan informed the Kelton, who looked completely flummoxed for a moment. "I was under the impression I was here to sign an alliance between the Midlands and D'Hara, not fight a war."

Praven made a gesture to one of his men, a large burly sergeant who began shouting orders to the men, who dispersed back into the trees. The Lieutenant shrugged apologetically to Kahlan and Zedd.

"I'm sorry, Mother Confessor. Diplomacy is not my purview. Perhaps Lord Rahl intends to make an alliance with you as you say but we've hear nothing of this. All I do know is we were expecting a Midlands army to assist the D'Harans in finishing the vermin hordes off once and for all. Kelton's contribution arrived a week ago per Lord Rahl's request but we have seen no other Midland armies arrive since."

"Why exactly is a Kelton serving Lord Rahl?" Kahlan asked suspiciously, sensing the man believed absolutely everything he had told them.

"Prince Fyren signed a treaty with D'Hara," Praven replied with a look suggesting that any fool would know that answer. "We were sent to assist in this endeavor to cement the peace agreement."

"Fyren!" Kahlan spat the name out, earning a shocked look from Praven at her venomous tone. She smiled apologetically. "Forgive my outburst. I'm afraid my dealings with Prince Fyren have been unpleasant. I don't mean to impugn your leaders but wonder why the Council was not informed of this treaty when it was the Keltons who pushed for D'Harans to be banished from the Midlands."

"I understand, Mother Confessor," Praven nodded in agreement. "I, too, was confused by Prince Fyren's recent change of heart. I can only assume that it was my battalion's joint defense of Bravenhurst with the D'Harans from the hordes that convinced the Prince to change his mind. Or so my captain told me when he issued our orders."

"Well, let's get this cleared up," Zedd suggested, gesturing the path. "Take us to see Lord Rahl."

Praven shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't do that. No one is to pass now that the battle is underway."

As if to support the Kelton's words a crackling sound reminiscent of lightning shattered the air followed by a thunderous rumble the shook the ground. The Lieutenant glanced worriedly over his shoulder. "Come. We'll go to the observation post."

Quickly dismounting their steeds Kahlan and Zedd followed the Kelton into the woods, leaving the guards to protect the horses. After a brief climb through rocky terrain and gnarled tree roots, they arrived at a small ledge where the Keltish troops had erected a small camp concealed by an outcropping that provided a spectacular view of the valley below. Another Kelton looking no more than sixteen summers of age wearing light leather armor without a cloak or tabard was peering through a long cylindrical device Kahlan did not recognize and making marks on a map stretched over flat stone.

"Dear Spirits." Zedd whispered.

In the distance could be seen the large, dark stones that made up the Castle Tamarang surrounded by a small dense forest of lush green, the few roads, empty of activity, to and from the palace cutting tracks into the land from long use. Nearer to them could easily be seen a massed army of men in the all too familiar black and red colors of the D'Haran Army, their pennants and banners clearly proclaiming the elite of the D'Haran forces: the Dragon Corps. But it was not the arrayed D'Haran army that brought forth Zedd's exclamation, but the much larger mass of men arrayed against the D'Harans, a number easily outnumbering the D'Harans ten to one and with little to no semblance of order to their advance. It was obvious that the D'Harans had used the gently sloping hills and fields to funnel the larger force into the narrow confines from which they now fought.

A D'Haran mangonel launched its projectile, a projectile that suddenly erupted into a ball of fire, Wizard's Fire Kahlan noted with some surprise, moments before hurtling into a thick detachment of the enemy charging a D'Haran squadron that appeared to be in retreat. With in moments the enemy troops were incinerated as the Wizard Fire engulfing them. Lightning streaked through the enemy lines followed by an erupted of dirt as if the earth itself had reached up to swallow the enemy whole. A shuddering rumble shook even the mountain they stood on. Kahlan noted the lookout steady himself on the rock as he jotted another mark on the map.

"You can see why Lord Rahl has ordered no one to come through the pass," Praven said gesturing to the battle. "We're just waiting for his signal." The Kelton tapped the younger man on the shoulder. "How goes it, Bedren?"

The younger Kelton never once looked away from his device. "I think Lord Rahl will begin soon. The 3rd Battalion just started moving. Runners have gone out to the wings. Mistress Cara has gathered the Mord-Sith around Lord Rahl."

"How do you know that?" Kahlan asked curious at the certainty of the young man's words.

Bedren smiled, looking at her and gesturing to the device. "The spyglass allows me to see farther and better than by sight alone."

Zedd nodded in understanding, apparently quite familiar with the device. "Yes, such devices are not unknown, but we are very far away. How can you tell such things from this distance? I know of none capable of such distance."

Bedren shrugged. "This was made by Lord Rahl's metal smith, a tinker named Aswerth. None make better spyglass than he."

"It must be spelled to improve visibility," Zedd noted with something akin to pride and wonder as he looked over the brass frame. "May I?"

"Certainly, Wizard." Bedren handed him the device. "But it is not spelled. Lord Rahl says magic should only enhance ingenuity and creativity not replace it."

"Marvelous," Zedd said noting the workmanship before bringing it up giving the young man an inquiring gaze. "Where is Lord Rahl?"

"Behind the 3rd Dragon Corps' van, surrounded by the Mord-Sith. You can't miss them." The young man said pointing vaguely into the large cluster of D'Harans.

"Yes, I see them," Zedd replied after a moment of perusing the D'Haran lines. Kahlan noted the sudden hoarseness to Zedd's voice confirming he had indeed found Richard.

"Excuse me, Mother Confessor, I must prepare my men. You'll be safe here with Bedren." With that Praven disappeared back into the woods.

"Of course," Kahlan nodded stepping closer to Zedd.

She was surprised at Zedd's sudden gasp of pain, grasping his head, she and Bedren catching him before he crashed to his knees.

"Zedd!"

The old wizard groaned momentarily before righting himself. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Kahlan asked in concern, noting the worried look on Bedren's now pale face. Wizards were not known for sudden bouts of discomfort or weakness without good reason.

Zedd patted her shoulder reassuringly. "Yes, Kahlan, I was just got off guard by the magic."

"Magic?"

"Powerful magic. I haven't felt such power since…well, never." Zedd admitted. He shook himself. "Well, no matter now that I know what to expect."

"It was probably Lord Rahl," Bedren stated simply. "He's a powerful wizard. All of the D'Harans say so."

"Yes, well, perhaps." Zedd had a dubious look on his face but seemed unwilling to argue the point with the young Kelton. Instead he turned back to the spyglass, adjusting it slightly before looking on.

Richard's hand shook in pain as the magic grew even before he finished laying the final lines of sand, chanting slowly as he placed himself into the center of the grace. It seemed as if his blood burned through his veins, muscles tensing painfully as his nerves felt as if he were on fire. Withdrawing the small circular device he knelt and placed it on the ground carefully and began the incantation. The silver symbols raised from the brass plate started to glow as he felt another flash of pain cut through him as he stood tall, his chants growing louder.

Everything came into focus, with vibrant, painful, violent clarity. He could feel everything: the sun scorching his flesh, the wind freezing his lungs, colors searing his eyes with crystal clarity. He could sense the life of all those around him, every heartbeat, and each breath, feel their hopes and fears, and hear their thoughts whispering in his mind. He could feel the power of the nearby wizards ebb and flow as they cast their spells. It was filling him. Consuming him as it filled him.

And he released it into the world. A rumbling of thunder, a crackling lightning as a column of light erupted upwards and outward from the Grace. He guided its path as it cut through everything, only his thoughts protecting those loyal to him, protecting himself, while focusing the living fury of the magic against his enemies.

And then he felt it, the darkness rising within a chill not of the flesh but of the spirit. For a moment he was confused. It was not part of the web and yet there it was, weaving into the ancient magic. A sudden wash of rage in counterpoint arose in him as well, erasing his pain and agony. He knew with a sudden, certain terrible clarity and strange feeling of relief that he would not survive this. No one could. No one was meant to control this power. For the briefest of moments in the agony ripping through him he knew he was losing control, knew what needed to be done to stop it from consuming those around him.

He could no longer hold back the scream that tore from his throat.

Grasping the Sword of Truth and pulling it forth from its scabbard, he let the blade's magic and rage wash over him, erasing all doubt, all pain, and filling him with a calm acceptance and understanding of what needed to be done. He had caused this potential catastrophe. It was his responsibility to prevent it. He could hear Cara and the other Mord-Sith screaming at him, pounding their fists and Agiels against the invisible barrier the Grace had erected around him. For a moment he wishes he had time to explain so that they would understand.

As if in answer to his wish, for a moment he caught Cara's eyes, her movements freezing as a flicker of understanding dawned there. He wanted to comfort her as she stood back, no longer expelling her efforts against the shield as her eyes filled with unshed tears.

He cried out as he felt his skin begin to rend, his bones snap and shatter under the flesh as the forces binding him twisted and constricted. He felt the blood trickle down as his face as a slash opened up on his cheek. Raising the sword above his head he prepared to strike downward and shatter the Excoriating Web before it was too late. He paused at feeling a sudden rush of warmth run through his soul, recognizing it; or more precisely, who. Smiling sadly, he glanced to a nearby mountain ridge following the warmth to its source, before nodding once and letting the blade descended with all his might.

The brass and silver disk shattering into pieces. The light engulfed him, and he knew no more.

Zedd watched in surprised horror as Richard completed the Grace and placed the unfamiliar bronze and silver disk upon the ground, the magic seeming to flare to life even before being activated. He felt the brush of its power along as skin as a shockwave emanated out from Richard's location only to be buffeted back by a similar wave from the surrounding mountains.

He didn't need to look to know what the Keltish Lieutenant had done. He'd activated the final part of a triple bound web, one of the most dangerous magics ever created by the wizards of old. The disk itself was the first binding, the Grace the second, and the boundary spell just released the third element. But he could see something was wrong. The moment Richard had straightened the pain was obvious in face even as the column of light quickly expanded outwards, lashing out and engulfing all that surrounded Richard. Zedd kept his focus on his grandson, not needing to see what he knew would happen to the unfortunates caught in the web's destructive path.

He watched Richard nearly crumple at the pain, could see his skin begin to stretch and tear, muscle seize up, bones snap. He stood in mute terror as he saw for the first time the magic in Richard's eyes, mere moments before he felt the incredible power slide over him, around him and move beyond touching all. With a sense of sadness and pride Zedd mutely watched Richard's face settle into calm as he pulled the Sword of Truth from its scabbard, lifting it high. For a brief moment, Richard looked in his direction. Zedd did not doubt for a moment his grandson knew he was there as he nodded once as if in acknowledgement before swinging the blade down.

Zedd quickly dropped the spyglass, dragging Kahlan and the young Kelton by the arms behind him even as blinding light filled the valley moments before a terrible thunderous roar swept over the land. He barely had thrust them behind the granite outcropping and cast a protective web when the blinding wave of magic swept over their position. The world turned so cold the air seemed to burn even as light erased the sight of the trees and mountains. Rocks, debris, dust, and other debris clouded the air. Zedd groaned under the weight of the magic rampaging across his shield fearful its force would outlast his reserves.

And just as suddenly as the chaos had come, the world returned. The sky clear and carrying not a sound of life. It was if the world took pause to consider the immense power that had just befallen the land. Dusting himself off, Zedd was surprised that he hadn't even realized his collapse. Glancing up he found Kahlan looking at him with a mixture of fear and admiration. Before she could even ask the question he saw lurking in her eyes and the eyes of the young man beside her, he nodded with a reassuring smile, and allowed them to help him to his feet.

"Zedd, what just happened?" Kahlan asked quietly. Zedd noticed that she seemed afraid to look at anything but him, perhaps instinctively knowing of the possible devastation around them.

"The impossible," Zedd replied quietly. A glance at the valley told him all he needed to know. The Excoriating Web had burned itself into the very land itself. Only from this vantage point would any ever notice the pattern of a shattered grace burned into the terrain itself.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"_The Wailing Woods of Tamarang are a truly frightful place to venture for even the bravest of souls. Though few discuss its origins there is no doubt that it was due to the magic unleashed by Lord Richard Rahl that justly earned him the epithet, the Scourge of Tamarang."_

- Woods Guide Fin Lamens as quoted in _Feppendreau's Guide to the Mysterious_

Kahlan could not believe the carnage before her. Zedd has quickly explained to her the magic that had been unleashed but the extent of the damage was shocking. She had expected to see many dead for even she had felt the near suffocating power of the Excoriating Web's magic as it had swept over them. Her joints still ached slightly from the effect. But what she saw seemed somehow worse than what she had braced herself for. While there were the expected bodies there were also ghastly twisted remnants of the soldiers, both barbarian and D'Haran. Some were misshapen forms of men and animals who seemed to have been turned inside out. Others still stood frozen in death with their flesh stripped away and hanging in chunks. And still others were nothing more than scattered bits of flesh, bone, and viscera.

The most frightening for her was not the brutalized and twisted bodies though. It was the vast mass of twisted trees where once the bulk of the barbarian forces had stood. Even at this distance she could see the petrified flesh of the men now twisted, knotted, and gnarled, forever frozen in their anguish and terror, their hair brittle and already sprouting ash colored pine needles. The ground beneath them was dark as the color of dried blood.

The lucky ones were not those that lived as the first wails of the unfortunate survivors rose in the air. Of that Kahlan was certain.

"Zedd," she whispered, her voice faltering at the gory scene.

"I know," he replied softly. The gasp of Bedren at his side barely drew his attention.

The sound of horses quickly brought them out of their reverie as the two Aydindril guards trotted through the narrow path carefully guiding the horses behind them. They were followed by a handful of the Keltish troops, all with weapons drawn. Zedd noted the sorry shape of the men with burns and slashes to their armor, clothes, and faces.

"Mother Confessor, Wizard Zorander! Are you all right?" The burly Keltish sergeant asked, eyes flicking briefly and without emotion to the battlefield below.

"We're fine, Sergeant…," Kahlan assured them.

"Eskan, ma'am."

"And you and your men? Are they well?"

The Kelton seemed surprised by the question but nodded. "Yes, ma'am. A few men were killed by the… they were killed when Lieutenant Praven opened the box Lord Rahl gave him. The rest are fine."

Sergeant Eskan seemed to take a closer look at the battlefield. For a moment his eyes blinked rapidly as he took in what he saw before turning his attention fully back to the Mother Confessor. A small smile crept onto his face. "It worked! The barbarians are dead."

His announcement garnered a surprisingly loud and enthusiastic cheer from his fellow soldiers and brief chanting of victory for Lord Rahl, D'Hara, and the Midlands. Only Bedren did not join in, though he put fist to chest when the others cheered Lord Rahl's name. Kahlan's glance told Zedd that she too found the young man's behavior odd.

"So it would seem," Zedd ended their exuberance with his cool tone. "But the day's work is not yet done and there is wounded to be tended."

As the old wizard bent to retrieve the spyglass he'd dropped, Kahlan knelt down with him, concern obvious in her eyes. "Zedd. Is Richard…?"

"I don't know."

He briefly hefted the device up and tried to peer through the aperture instantly noting the shattered workings. He handed it over to Bedren with a small shrug. "I'm afraid the lenses have been shattered."

Bedren seemed unconcerned as he quickly pushed the telescope into a smaller cylinder before placing it in a leather pouch that seemed made specifically to carry the device. "I'm sure the lenses can be replaced. As you said there are more important things to attend to. I'm sure Lord Rahl is as anxious as you to see to the wounded."

"Let's be off then," Kahlan announced, accepting the reins of her horse and quickly mounting the steed in one smooth motion.

The ride to the D'Haran field camp took far longer than expected and brought with it a whole new string of horrors that none of them would forget. By the time they had reached their destination, a line of injured D'Haran soldiers trailed behind them. Kahlan estimated their numbers to be at least five hundred.

Wounded though they were they seemed nearly jubilant as she and her entourage rode by, many offering cheers of welcome and victory to the Mother Confessor as often as they cheered for their Lord Rahl. Bedren had quickly informed her that all D'Harans knew of Lord Rahl's admiration for the Mother Confessor. But equally important to the D'Harans was the knowledge that the Mother Confessor had sacrificed her happiness so that D'Hara would have a Master Rahl once more. That sacrifice had endeared her to D'Haran people.

Cara, it seemed, had kept her promise.

"And how is it a Kelton knows the heart of a D'Haran?" Zedd asked with a sharp look in his eyes.

"Who said I was Kelton?" Bedren replied easily. "I am D'Haran. Were it not for Lord Rahl I would have died two summers ago when the invaders sacked my home. He stopped me from choosing the path of idle revenge and instead showed me the way of justice."

"Then how is it you come to serve Kelton?" Kahlan asked her curiosity piqued by Bedren's tale.

Bedren stood taller pride evident in his stature and words. "I don't serve Kelton. I was hand selected by Lord Rahl to become Spirit Legion. I was then sent to Kelton to watch and observe until such time as I was needed. That is the way of the Spirit Legion."

Kahlan looked troubled at the young man's words, sharing a concerned glance with Zedd. "You're a spy?"

Bedren looked offended at the notion, a distasteful look twisting his lips. "No, Mother Confessor. Spirit warriors do not care about the political activities of other realms. We only wait in preparation against those who threaten peace. We are the eyes and ears of Lord Rahl. And when need arises, the dagger into the hearts of those who would harm him or D'Hara."

Spy. Assassin. Scout. Call it what you will, Kahlan knew exactly what Bedren was now. The fact that D'Harans had infiltrated the Midlands, even in such a seemingly innocuous fashion was troubling. "So the D'Harans did attack Northhaven?"

Her question made the D'Haran bring his horse in an easy loping trot beside her to a halt. "No ma'am! We stopped the attackers at Northhaven. Only a handful of D'Harans returned to tell their tale. D'Hara has not attacked the Midlands since Richard became the Lord Rahl."

He leaned closer to her horse, face obviously eager to share what he knew. "None dared defy his order after he personally beheaded Commander Gennix for suggesting Lord Rahl was nothing more than the …uh…body servant of the Mother Confessor." Bedren looked a little flustered at the end but otherwise radiated complete devotion.

"And just what is this Spirit Legion doing in the Midlands?" She asked coolly, impressed when Bedren didn't so much as even blink at her challenging tone.

"Protecting it, Mother Confessor," Bedren stated simply. She could tell he believed what he said, completely and wholeheartedly as a true believer of his cause.

He gestured toward the cluster of tents. "General Bain and Lord Rahl can explain it all to you. I need to report in to my commander."

With that Bedren trotted off into a knot of D'Haran soldiers who didn't even seem to note his passage through their midst. Soon enough they had lost sight of the young man entirely.

"Spirit warriors indeed," Zedd muttered to himself before urging his horse to catch up with Kahlan.

As their party approached the command tents a half dozen Mord-Sith swarmed around them, Agiels gripped tightly in hand, faces brimming with anger. Kahlan kept her cool demeanor firmly in place as she dismounted her horse and stepped forward Zedd at her side. Behind the Mord-Sith she could see a handful of large D'Harans approach with an array of weapons, angry murmurs rippling through the gathered men. It seemed not all D'Haran's were as enamored with the Mother Confessor as the common foot soldiers were.

"I would speak with your commanders," Kahlan stated simply.

"Perhaps our commanders have nothing to say to the Queen Whore of the Midlands!" shouted a tall, muscularly built Mord-Sith with unusually dark skin, copper colored eyes, and a haughty expression on her young face. Her words brought forth smirks on the faces of a few of the Mord-Sith, but others flashed looks of warning toward the brash woman.

Kahlan smiled coldly. "Whore am I? I suppose Mord-Sith such as you would know such things since you obviously make up in muscle what you lack in wit."

Kahlan was surprised when a number of the Mord-Sith guffawed at this even as the woman before her growled and started towards her.

"Return to you place, Jura, before the Mother Confessor teaches you a lesson in humility you will not survive," came a silky smooth voice Kahlan remembered all too well. It carried deadly authority, a steel to it that could make even the strongest men quail in fear.

Jura glared at Kahlan, hand fisted around the Agiel with a slight trembling to her arm. Kahlan wasn't certain whether it was from the pain the Agiel gave its wielder or the implicit threat from the woman now stepping through the small knot of people. Jura bowed her head slowly.

"Yes, Mistress Cara."

"All of you return to you duties. Attend to the men," Cara shouted, her voice snapping those gathered around into action.

Kahlan took the moment to look Cara over. The few years separation hadn't seem to change the Mord-Sith. If anything, Kahlan thought she looked ever deadlier and sleeker in skin tight red leather that seemed to enhance the other woman's muscles and paired Agiels. Her face wasn't as harsh as she expected despite the tightly woven braid of blond hair that now reached the Mord-Sith's lower back. In fact, Cara was giving them a smile, blue eyes sparkling in genuine warmth and affection.

"It's good to see you well, Mother Confessor." Cara said, surprising Kahlan with a slight bow in respect, a high honor for a Mord-Sith to bestow upon anyone. "Though I wish the circumstances were better."

"Indeed." Kahlan agreed somewhat at a loss. "You seem well."

"I am, but you are not here to inquire into my health. You're here to see Richard." Cara stated matter of factly not the least bit perturbed.

"The he survived?" Zedd asked stepping forward with a curiously hopeful expression.

Cara's long silent look only added to the tension Kahlan had felt growing as the Mord-Sith started to lead them through the battlefield ruins. "That is what I was hoping you could tell me, Wizard."

Zedd's eyebrows bunched together in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"It is easier if I show you."

They quickly followed Cara through still dispersing troops toward a knot of people standing just inside the burnt remains of the grace. Shoving an inattentive pikeman aside, Care made a sound not unlike a low growl in displeasure, instantly clearing a path for her and her charges.

Once through they could see an older, rather battered and weary looking D'Haran with graying dark hair bearing the rank marks of General kneeling just outside of the grace with a blank expression. Two Mord-Sith, faces and leather armor smudged with blood and soot and scrapes, stood behind him, their faces unreadable. It was their tight grips on the Agiels that revealed to Kahlan and Zedd all they needed to know. A short man in simple maroon robes with long brown hair stood a few paces away seemingly having a quiet argument with a pair of similarly dressed people: a blond man and black haired woman.

Cara led them right up to the D'Haran officer drawing the attention of the three robed figures who quickly moved to join them. "General Bain, the Mother Confessor and Wizard Zorander are here."

While Kahlan did not show it, she was surprised to realize the man rising from his knees before her was General Bain, once one of Darken Rahl's most trusted generals. A man she barely knew aside from their brief encounter during the Mord-Sith Denna's plot to take control of the D'Haran Empire. Bain had a reputation for being as equally fair as he was brutal in his dealings. She found herself surprised that he seemed so ordinary at this moment, not some fearsome warmongering D'Haran. He was a hardened soldier to be sure with a sharp cunning look in his eyes but somehow carrying an air of acceptance to the burdens of warfare as well. Right now he looked simply drained and saddened. He looked them over silently for a moment before surprisingly slamming his fist onto his armored chest in a salute before giving an ever so slight bow of the head. "Mother Confessor. Wizard Zorander."

His tone of voice more than anything froze Kahlan in place, unwilling to put voice to her fears.

"Richard?" Zedd's quiet interrogative use of his grandson's name made her heart pound harder. For a moment she saw the General give her a brief look of condolence before focusing on Zedd and gesturing beside him to the center of the grace.

"I was hoping you could verify what happened, Wizard Zorander. It would seem Lord Rahl has…passed, but some believe otherwise." The general glanced over at the robed trio. The one in maroon robes scowled at the general as he moved forward.

"He could not have survived, General." The wizard gestured to the ground. "Surely that much is obvious."

"Then explain to me, Hennik, why the magic of the Agiels is as strong as ever?" Cara's deathly calm voice asked. As if to make her point she waved the small leather bound rod towards Hennik, who quickly drew back with a slight hiss.

"As I said before, I can not explain such a thing. The magic of the Agiels is the domain of your sisters and the Lord Rahl," Hennik explained.

"Because there is an heir," Kahlan found herself speaking her thoughts without meaning too, her eyes slowly drifting to the ground captivated by what she saw. She never noticed the quick warning look Zedd gave her as he and Cara informed the others of the Agiels magical ties to the House of Rahl nor did she notice the surprised looks of the D'Harans as they learned of this fact.

Before the General the Sword of Truth was impaled in the ground. Around it shards of the disk were scattered about in twisted and melted bits. Lying on the ground beside the blade were torn and bloodied bits of what appeared to be leather armor, a scrap showing what appeared to be symbols tooled into the material with great care. Resting on the pile lay a familiar bone tooth attached to a frayed leather chord, fractures in the bone made more pronounced by a dark stain. The sword was blackened; thought the blade itself seemed undamaged. Even the leather of the pommel appeared as supple and well worn as normal save for an odd small piece of what appeared to be stained blacked leather and bone attached to it.

With a gasp Kahlan realized what she was seeing: the remnants of a finger, its flesh fused to the leather and metal.

"Kahlan?" Zedd grasped her elbow, keeping her upright as she realized she had actually started to drop to her knees. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to stand, to be strong, face impassive. To be the Mother Confessor.

"Can you do as they ask? Confirm Lord Rahl's death?" She asked, surprised at the toneless quality of her own voice.

Zedd nodded painfully, "I can."

"Then do so," she commanded.

Kahlan watched silently, feeling cold despite the increasing warmth of the day, as Zedd stepped carefully into the remnants of the grace taking a long time to silently study the sword, clothing, even tasting the dirt and soot of the grace itself. Silently nodding to himself he began to chant softly drawing a crowd of nearby soldier, all apparently eager to learn the fate of their leader.

After a time, Zedd, stopped his chanting, looking pale and drawn as he knelt down and touched the bloody clothing. A brief glow could be seen before he removed his hand and did the same with the bone fragment on the sword.

"Richard is dead," he announced.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"_As the Lord Rahl goes, so too goes D'Hara." _

- D'Haran proverb.

General Bain looked down at the remains and the sword, his voice strangely subdued, defeated. "Now what will we do without him? Without an heir to D'Hara, without a Master, the peace Lord Rahl fought for will be for naught." The older general shook his head. "All of it for naught."

"Perhaps the Mord-Sith are correct then that there is an heir," Hennik interrupted. "It's simply a matter of finding him." Hennik turned to Cara with a speculative look in his eyes.

"Perhaps Mistress Cara knows of the heir's location. She is…was closer to Lord Rahl than anyone." By the wizard's tone all could insinuate his meaning of more than mere friendship between the Mord-Sith and her Master. Cara merely shook her head.

"I know of no heir. Lord Rahl had no mistresses," she replied crushing the brief glimmer of hope Kahlan noted in some of the awaiting soldier's eyes.

"Then how are Agiels working?" Hennik asked looking decidedly pleased at turning the Mord-Sith's words back on her.

"Surely Richard…Lord Rahl had…," Kahlan paused at Cara's inelegantly snorted derision.

"No, Mother Confessor. Lord Rahl has remained faithful to you in the hopes you would one day realize your rash decision and welcome him back. Did you think he would do otherwise?"

Cara noticed Zedd's intense gaze upon her and scowled in return. "What, wizard?"

"You are certain Richard could have no heir. Someone you did not know about?" He asked, noting the brief hesitation from the Mord-Sith. "The truth now."

Cara shook her head. "It's probably nothing, but I was separated from Richard for a few months shortly after we left Aydindril."

"Why were you separated?" Kahlan interrupted.

"It's a long tale that I'd prefer not to go into detail about," Cara countered reluctantly.

"I think we have time to hear it if it is relevant to our current dilemma," Zedd noted.

The Mord-Sith's cool gaze flicked between both before stepping closer and lowering her voice so only they could hear her words. "Richard was in a foul mood when we left Aydindril but he did what was necessary to gather followers. We liberated a small village, Colversfucht, from a particularly nasty D'Haran warlord named Hedrax. The people were grateful Richard killed him. Even Hedrax's soldiers welcomed his defeat and offered us any assistance they could provide. While we were regrouping and reorganizing, Richard seemed quite taken with a young woman, Marabess, and her family and spent much time at their small farm while the soldiers and I gathered what information we could."

"When we received word of a detachment of D'Haran troops nearby that had sworn their neutrality in the fighting, Richard arranged for a meeting with their commander. Marabess' brother, Renard, offered to lead us there. We were successful in securing their allegiance and returned to Colversfucht."

Cara paused, taking a deep breath as if steeling herself from the memory. That in and of itself was enough to let Kahlan and Zedd the story did not end well.

"We could see the smoke rising from the village from miles away. By the time we arrived, everyone but a handful of loyalist troops remained. The town had been wiped out by Commander Helmut's squadron from the Dragon Corps 3rd Battalion. When Richard saw what they had done to Marabess…," She shook her head.

"But that was not as bad as Renard blaming Richard for his family's murder. Richard blamed himself and that guilt grew as word came of other villages and towns similarly razed for supporting him."

"Richard…there is no other way to say this. He went mad. He gathered those of us that remained and hunted down Helmut and his men." A small wicked smile crossed her face. "We slaughtered them, but not before they suffered. What Richard and Renard did to Helmut was enough to even make a Mord-Sith proud." The smile soon faded as she shook her head. "Perhaps the violence of it pulled Richard from his madness. I don't know. But soon after Helmut's death Richard ordered the killing stopped and released the handful of prisoners that remained. All of the surviving prisoners swore an oath to him."

"Why?" Kahlan asked in horror.

"Because he is the Lord Rahl. Because he is what they expect from the Lord Rahl," Cara replied with a shrug. "Even though he spared them, what he did to Helmut convinced them that he was strong enough, ruthlessness enough, to lead and protect the empire. That is all the members of the Dragon Corps care about: protecting the empire."

"Word spread quickly and D'Harans rallied to Richard's banner. The Minders had joined us by then and become his personal guard. He ordered me to secure the loyalty of the Mord-Sith. By the time I had returned from my mission he was gone. I was informed Richard had left less than a week after my departure and had not been seen or heard from since. It took me three months to find him living in a cabin deep in the woods far from civilization. He didn't seem particularly surprised to see me but refused to answer any of my questions.

"The next day we began our journey back. He soon turned his rage on his enemies, but it was different. It no longer controlled him and he seemed more confident with his decisions, no matter how difficult or distasteful. By the end of the year he became Lord Rahl."

"I never saw him with a woman, nor did he ever hint of one during his time away. That is why I do not think he was unfaithful to you." Cara stated with a certain finality that threatened violence on any who doubted or disputed her words.

"But you're not certain?" Kahlan asked, not the least dissuaded. "A lot can happen in that time."

Before she could reply, Cara turned back to heated discussion that was breaking out between the Mord-Sith, the Wizards and the General over the situation. Zedd slid in beside Kahlan leaning in so no one else could hear his words. Words she never let him speak.

"We must tell them, Zedd. You know we can not let D'Haran fall back into chaos," she whispered. Her voice turning to steel as an unexpected sweep of anger came over her. "It was that very fear that had you order me to send Richard away."

She nearly flinched at the pain in her old friend's eyes at her harsh words. "I'm sorry, Zedd."

She felt relieved when he gave her a gentle one armed hug around the shoulder. "I understand, dear one. But telling them may prove dangerous. They may not understand the ramifications."

"And the ramifications if we don't tell them could be worse. Chaos. War." Kahlan shook her head. "We must do something."

"Indeed we shall." With that Zedd pulled away.

"General Bain," he called quickly rearranging his robes in manner Kahlan recognized from his many days of advice and counsel. "Obviously an heir to the throne of D'Hara exists given what we know of the magic of the Agiels. Would it not be possible for you to rule in the heir's stead until we are able to locate the new Lord Rahl?"

Bain blinked a moment as if surprised at the suggestion before shaking his head. "Impossible."

"Why?" Zedd quirked his eyebrow up as if reminding Bain of his not too distant attempt to seize control of the empire for himself.

"I cannot rule. No one can rule but the Lord Rahl," Bain replied, actually looking slightly abashed at the wizard's look. "For thousands of years only the House of Rahl has been able to keep D'Hara unified."

"But you could serve as regent, until we found the new Lord Rahl. Yes?" Zedd pressed, his fingers gently stroking his chin.

"Well, yes. There have been brief moments when a Regent was required to reign until the Lord Rahl was of age. But only the Lord Rahl's most trusted and closest advisor was selected to do so. I know of no such advisor and I am merely a soldier," Bain explained.

Kahlan had an inkling of where Zedd wanted. "Tell me, General. What did you do after Darken Rahl died?"

Bain seemed nonplussed at her question. He glanced between Kahlan and Zedd briefly before answering. "I warred with some of the other generals over control of D'Hara before giving my oath to Lord Rahl, to Richard. When Darken Rahl was killed, I decided to march on the People's Palace and seize it back from those defiling its halls. When I was informed by some of the Mord-Sith that they knew the new Lord Rahl was alive, but they did not know where he was, I decided to defend the palace until he returned."

"And you simply believed the Mord-Sith?"

"Mord-Sith are, ultimately, loyal to the House of Rahl. We have no reason to lie in such matters. In fact, the sisters at my temple had intended to return to the People's Palace to ensure its harmonious operation before events made such plans impossible," Cara stated simply with agreeing nods from the pair of Mord-Sith beside her. Kahlan understood Cara's oblique reference to the manner in which she had come to be separated from the Mord-Sith and become protector of the Seeker. From the look she gave Kahlan it was obvious the Mord-Sith had sussed out to some extent what Zedd and she were up to.

"As Mistress Cara says, there was no reason to believe their claim was anything but truthful," Bain replied.

"And so you defended the palace?" Kahlan nodded, distractedly brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

Bain nodded his head slowly as if suspecting some deceit or attack. "Of course, none dared even approach until Lord Richard arrived."

"And you simply welcomed him?" Kahlan asked curiously.

Bain scoffed. "Of course not, he was the man who killed Darken Rahl. I saw you, the Mother Confessor, slay Richard Rahl and yet he lived. When Richard came to the Palace I opposed him and lost." The General explained casually, though Kahlan expected there was much more to the story than the General's simple words conveyed as if noting nothing more than a pleasant day of weather. "Rather than execute me as was his right, he offered me salvation through service to him. I readily accepted his offer."

"It seems odd one so loyal to Darken Rahl to suddenly serve the wishes of his Master's greatest enemy. Does it not?" Kahlan noted pointedly.

Bain's head came up at that, expression cold and unforgiving. "My reasons are between Lord Richard Rahl and myself."

Kahlan realized she had offended the man by pushing too hard. She raised a hand in a placating gesture. "My apologies, General, I meant no offense. I know Richard, Lord Rahl, would not have allowed you such authority if he did not believe in you or trust you."

Bain's face gentled and he smiled slightly with a fond expression. "I've served under three Lords Rahl in my time was a warrior. But it was not until Lord Richard that I felt proud once more to be D'Haran, to look beyond my own wants. To be the noble warrior I had always envisioned myself to be as a child."

"Lord Rahl always spoke highly of you. He always defended your actions. I remember his first moments as the Lord Rahl. A defiant commander from the Dragon Corps accused him of being a usurper, a puppet for the Confessors. Those spiteful words were his last as Lord Rahl's sword sliced through the insolent man's gut. It was a slow death."

Bain gave a long look. She could tell he was trying to come to a decision but of what she knew not. "A man does not take such actions without reasons. Even when angry and raging against the Midlands, I could see his affection for you in his eyes. It is for that reason I will tell you this much then, Mother Confessor: Richard Rahl was redemption, not for me, but for my children and grandchildren. I know with certainty that the Keeper reserves my place in the deepest, darkest, cruelest place in the Underworld for what I have done in the name of serving the Rahls. To see D'Hara be rebuilt and made better than the D'Hara of my youth…that is worth more to me than anything."

"Then become regent until the heir of D'Hara is ready," Kahlan urged.

She saw a glint of understanding come to the D'Haran General's eyes. A small smile tugged at his lips. "You know where the new Lord Rahl is located."

Kahlan heard the finality in his voice. He was not asking a question, but making a statement. Kahlan noted the warning look Zedd gave her, understanding his need to be subtle and careful with the matter at hand. After a long moment, Kahlan nodded. "He is Aydindril. A boy, a child really, training at the Wizard's Keep."

She was surprised at Bain's broad grin. "No matter," Bain waved his hand dismissively. "His mother is D'Haran? You would protect a D'Haran?"

"No, the mother is from the Midlands."

Bain seemed to think for a moment, nodding slowly. "There were a few Midlanders brought to work for the palace." He muttered to himself before again shaking his head dismissively. "She knows of his birthright?"

"She does," Zedd confirmed, surprising Kahlan at how easily the slight deception alleviated her own fears.

"Then we must retrieve young Master Rahl. Return him to D'Hara, to the People's Palace immediately," Hennik interjected.

"No!" Kahlan's vehemence seemed to stun the wizard into silence and brought a curious expression to Bain's face.

"Surely you would not deny our people…" Hennik's outrage seemed to leave him tongue tied.

"I'm sorry for my outburst. But he's still so young, still in training," Kahlan tried to calm the obviously angry wizard.

"You think we could not train him as a wizard?" Hennik asked indignantly.

"Are you a Wizard of the First Order? Do you think you could better teach him matters of magic?" Zedd asked ominously, earning a nervous shake of the head from Hennik. Zedd smiled tightly at that. "I thought not."

"So young Master Rahl is being trained by you, Wizard Zorander? As you did with Richard?" Bain asked in confirmation, obviously pleased at the idea.

"Of course," Zedd replied as if any other such notion was the most preposterous thing he had ever heard.

"Then D'Hara will be all the better for it. Richard was a great wizard thanks to your tutelage," Bain said.

Zedd made a mental note to get to the source of the D'Haran's mistaken belief that Richard was a powerful wizard even as Bain continued speaking. "But you understand we must protect Lord Rahl. Surely you would allow a small contingent of guards for him? And we must indeed confirm for ourselves that he is the Lord Rahl if nothing more than for the sake of the D'Haran people."

Kahlan nodded slowly, knowing what the General said was true. "Of course, General, we can discuss the details later. "

"A contingent of Minders and Mord-Sith are required as well, General," Cara announced her tone brooking no dissent. Kahlan was surprised when Bain nodded in agreement and without complaint. She was even more curious at another mention of the Minders.

"Of course, Mistress Cara, anything else would be unforgivable." Bain smiled politely at Kahlan but she could see his attention was starting to drift to more pressing matters. The General turned to the gathered men, pulling out his sword and raising over his head to gain their attention. An eerie silence soon fell across the field camp.

"Warriors of D'Hara, hear me. Lord Richard Rahl, Unifier of D'Hara, Master of the Mord-Sith, Wizard of the Second Order, Seeker of Truth, and the Scourge of Tamarang is dead!"

"Our new Lord Rahl awaits us! We ride to Aydindril!" Bain stabbed his sword in the air for emphasis, bringing on a loud roar of approval.

"All hail, Lord Rahl!"

Kahlan felt herself startle at the booming voices.

Kahlan and Zedd were surprised when without error, all the gathered D'Harans, whole and injured alike, turned to face Aydindril and kneeled. Soon chanting rising over the battle field:

"Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your wisdom we are sheltered. We live only to serve. Our lives are your."

A brief but raucous cheer arose after the chant ended before the troops began moving again, collecting the wounded and dead, tending to supplies, weapons, and other duties. In spite of the grim scene of the battlefield and the bustle of the troops Kahlan felt a small smile on her face in pride for Richard.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"_While certainly the Wizard's Keep in Aydindril and the Palace of the Prophets are bastions of magical power and knowledge, oft forgotten is the People's Palace, the seat of power of the House of Rahl and the D'Haran Empire. The castle itself is said to be a marvel of magic and arcane knowledge, but the libraries within even more so."_

- Chapter 27: The House of Rahl from _Feppendreau's Guide to the Mysterious_

"General, could you find something suitable?" Zedd asked idly watching the D'Harans tend to their post-battle duties beyond the circle of Mord-Sith and the Lord Rahl's guards that cordoned them off from the rest of the field. Noting Bain's puzzled expression Zedd gestured to the sword and remains. "For Lord Rahl," he added quietly, so as not to cause any embarrassment for the man.

"Of course. Hennik!" The General's bellow made the short wizard quickly scurry over to them. "We must prepare Lord Rahl's remains for burial at the People's Palace. You will assist Wizard Zorander in this task."

Hennik's poorly concealed look of distaste did not carry through his meekly voiced assent. His behavior earned him a hard look from the General but not further reprimand.

"My apologies, Mother Confessor, Wizard Zorander, but I must attend to the men," Bain inclined his head in a nod.

"Of course, General. If we can assist in anyway, please let me know," Kahlan replied. "And General, please convey my condolences to the men."

Bain nodded, seemingly pleased at her words.

"It may be several days before we are able to depart for Aydindril," The General noted, inclining his head slightly towards the devastation around them.

"Of course. That should be more than sufficient time for a messenger to be sent ahead," Zedd replied. "Please let the healers know that I will be available to assist with the injured once I've completed our task here."

With a quick thank you, Bain departed followed by a half dozen officers once he was outside the defensive cordon.

"Wizard Hennik is it?" Zedd asked turning to man nearby.

"Yes," Hennik replied with impatience.

"We will of course need material for a shroud, and pyre to be constructed, as well an appropriate container for the ashes," Zedd instructed with little emotion in his voice.

Hennik sneered. "Why bother with a funeral pyre? There's little left to burn save some clothes and bits."

"You would deny your Lord Rahl a proper service?" Kahlan asked, her words catching the attention of Cara. The Mord-Sith's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits as she approached the group.

"Of course not, but Richard was also a practical man," Hennik replied easily even as his eyes warily took in the glowering look Cara had directed on him. "You of course know this. He would not want special efforts made on his behalf."

"Perhaps," Zedd replied his manner now chill. "But you will do as I have asked. Now."

It was obvious by Hennik's expression he was angry at the order, apparently unused to receiving such commands. "Of course, First Wizard," he made the title sound almost like an epithet, bowing his head. He reached for the Sword of Truth as he continued, "Perhaps I'll just polish off the sword as well."

"No!"

Zedd's shout was too late as Hennik's hand grasped the pommel. The wizard shrieked, jerking his hand away before falling to ground writing as he clutched his arm.

"Hold him still," Zedd ordered Kahlan and Cara, who quickly followed his command. Kahlan pinned his legs though she earned a painful kick to the chest before she was able to still the screeching man's legs. Cara quickly immobilized the wizard's arms, allowing Zedd to pin down his right hand, the hand that had touched the sword. It was now mangled, blackened, bones snapped, ulcerous flesh melting off the bones before their eyes. Dark bloody rents were slowly working their way up the man's arm, already just passing his wrist.

Zedd looked up briefly noting a D'Haran sergeant from their contingent of guards carried a large axe had rushed to see what was happening even as the others had closed ranks allowing no one else to leave or enter the area. Zedd swiftly moved Hennik's damaged arm away from his body and snapped his fingers at the sergeant.

"You, cut off his arm. Here." Zedd made a slashing movement just below the elbow. Zedd was glad that D'Haran soldiers rarely questioned orders when the sergeant quickly did as he was told. Hennik's wail as the blade fell and severed him was a relief from his prior shrieks.

"Cauterize the wound," he ordered, relieved as he saw the Cara had already decided on such action. He was more grateful that the pain caused by the Agiel rendered the wounded wizard unconscious and silent. In short order, the bloody wound was burned shut, the stench of scorched flesh filling the now silent air.

"You two," Zedd snapped at the two paralyzed wizards nearby, their shocked expressions standing out all the more on their pale faces. "Get him to the healers. Tell them I will be there shortly to do what I can for his injury."

The two nodded in mute silence quickly gathering their fellow wizard and departing.

"Zedd, what was that? I've never seen such a wound," Kahlan wondered, as she rose to her feet, absently dusting off the dirt from her Confessor's dress. "All he did was touch the sword," Kahlan took a step towards the Sword of Truth as she gestured. She gasped in surprise when Zedd snatched her by her arm and pulled her away.

"Don't touch it! Don't even go near it," Zedd warned. "There is powerful magic at work. I can feel it from here. Let me see if I can determine the trouble."

"But the sword has never done anything like this before. Has it?" Kahlan asked.

"Not that I'm aware of," Zedd admitted.

Kahlan frowned in thought at how Richard had stolen the sword from the Wizard's Keep. Now she wondered why the sword had been placed there in the first place. "Zedd, is this tied to the problems with the sword not bonding to the other Seekers?"

"Other Seekers?" Cara asked.

"After you and Richard left the Midlands, Zedd searched for another Seeker," Kahlan quickly explained. "We found two who seemed to be suitable candidates. When naming the first man, the sword did not react. No matter what we did, he could not call the sword's magic. We thought it meant he was not meant to be the next Seeker."

"The second man the sword did bond with. But something happened when he went with my sister, Dennee, to take a confession in Riverhaven a short time later. According to my sister, raiders attacked the town and the Seeker went to fight them. After the attackers were defeated, the Seeker drove the blade through his own chest. She said he never made a sound."

"When Dennee returned with the sword, I could feel something was off and decided to take it to the Keep to study the problem further," Zedd picked up the story. "And there it remained until it was stolen. I still don't know how given the magical traps I established around it."

Cara dismissively waved away the slight glare from the wizard over the theft. "It was necessary. Richard said he needed the sword. I don't know how he did it, only that he did. Obviously you succeeded in solving the problem," Cara said. "Lord Rahl never had any trouble with the sword."

"But that's just it, Cara," Zedd noted. "I did not _solve_ the problem because I could not _find_ the problem."

"Perhaps Richard discovered the problem and solved it on his own," Cara surmised. "He is…was quite powerful for a wizard of the Second Order. Or so Wizard Hennik and the others often said."

"Cara, when I taught him magic at the Keep, Richard was quite the talented student, particularly with history, research, symbology, conjuring and illusions. Bags, the boy had far too much fun conjuring all sort of imaginaries to entertain people," Zedd noted with small look of humorous pride that quickly fell away into concern. "But he was limited with his han being stolen by Nicci. Without it he could never have any ability towards higher magic. That leads me to wonder how I saw him cast Wizard's Fire this day."

Cara shrugged, "I don't know. I thought Richard always had magic but refused to use it during the reunification war. He often spoke of people being more important than magic. He started using magic regularly after he started visiting Evergreen Castle."

"Evergreen Castle? I've never heard of such a place." Kahlan noted curiously.

Cara seemed embarrassed. "Well, it's really just a cabin, the one I mentioned before, but since only Richard and I ever go there none would know that. A bit rustic, but actually a quite charming place, really, if you like the woods. I'm not even certain of its exact location since I only arrived there one time by foot. Richard always transported us there by magic after he became Master of D'Hara. Most of the ministers and officers at the People's Palace just assumed it was another castle Lord Rahl had built and called it Evergreen Castle."

Zedd simply hummed in obvious dissatisfaction at Cara's words while looking over the sword carefully. "Let me see if I can figure this mystery out before I turn my mind to other concerns."

With that he cautiously kneeled once more beside the sword and remains chanting softly to himself, fingers making arcane designs and gestures in the air. The women were surprised when they realized his movements were soon resulting in the faintest glow of what appeared to be symbols; brief though they were before fading like wisps of smoke.

After a time, Kahlan estimated an hour's passage based on the sun's movement, Zedd's whispers ceased. His hands carefully hovered over and around the pommel of the sword, not touching it. The remains of the finger attached there started to flash as spark. Kahlan gasped as the blade of the sword started to glow dimly as she had seen it do on numerous occasions when the Seeker called forth the magic inherent in the weapon. Looking over to Cara, she too could tell the Mord-Sith was surprised at what they had witnessed.

Zedd removed his hands away from the sword to the scabbard and burnt and tattered remains. The scabbard to the sword flashed brightly causing the trio to shield their eyes momentarily. When they could see again, not one touch of soot or blood marred its surface. Without comment, Zedd continued over the bloody remains. Nothing happened until he reached the broken bone tooth necklace. Once there the runes inscribed there glowed briefly before fading away.

Zedd nodded to himself, reaching into his robes to pull out and unroll a small satchel. Reaching into a pouch at his belt he sprinkled a powder over the finger on the pommel, chanting softly. After a moment, he carefully slid the opening of the satchel over the finger before using the material to gently remove it from the pommel. He repeated the procedure again as he collected the tooth and the twisted shards of the device Richard had destroyed.

Tying the satchel shut with a sigh and placing it in his robes, Zedd rose to his feet. "It's safe now." As if to prove his point, he pulled the Sword of Truth from the ground and re-sheathed it.

"Zedd, what was that?" Cara asked, sounding not like her usual confident self.

"Magic," Zedd replied tiredly. "Richard's magic, I think, from the finger and perhaps the tooth. I'm not certain."

"But how, he's dead." Cara asked in confusion.

"The magic is in the blood. The blood is in the bones." Zedd replied with a shrug as if that explained everything. After a moment he frowned. "I just don't understand why Richard's magic appears to be tied to the Sword of Truth. Perhaps it is due to the excoriating web affecting the sword in some way. I can still feel the instability left in this field from its use."

"Would that explain why some D'Haran troops were killed and injured when Lord Rahl destroyed the device?" Cara asked.

"Definitely. I believe Richard realized what was happening and destroyed the device before it could kill everyone." Zedd shook his head. "Bags. He has to have somehow regained his han. There's no way one without it could have stopped the web's cascade. I doubt I could have stopped it!"

"He is Richard Rahl," Cara said quietly, a small bit of pride in her eyes.

"We must gather all of this together, it can't be burned. Who knows what would happen," Zedd looked worried.

"But Zedd…," Kahlan started to protest.

"I'm sorry. It must be done and is within my purview as First Wizard," Zedd announced. Seeing the displeased looks of not only the two women in front of him, but more than a few angry glances from their guards he raised his hand placating. "I fear the magic used here has not only tainted this place, but the sword, and possibly all those who fought here. I'll place them in the most secure rooms of the Keep until I can determine if there is anything wrong with the sword or any further danger."

A sudden rumble startled everyone. Looking skyward thunder clouds rolled in at a speed none could remember ever seeing before. Within minutes the sky was dark with thunder rumbling loud and long as lightning flashed ominously.

"Impossible. The skies were clear moments ago," Cara whispered.

Kahlan grasped Zedd arm gently, blue eyes worriedly eyeing the rapidly brewing storm. "Is this what you feared, Zedd?"

Zedd nodded. "Yes, child. Magic is out of balance."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"_Something is coming. I can feel it in my aching bones, have felt it since the day my grandson unleashed the Excoriating Web. Its magic still echoes throughout the world in the most curious of ways. The Wailing Forest of Tamarang and the dangerous beasts that lurk within was only the beginning. The tear in the boundary to Westland that now must be guarded to protect the people there from those who would unscrupulously use magic against those sheltered souls is but one. The rise in the number of children suddenly showing magical ability I suspect is another. The hot springs at Fedreth that freezes over at Summer Solstice and now the ever increasing numbers of these hideously warped wolves that now stalk the Midlands and beyond leave little doubt for me._

_As to these wolves, barren wolves the D'Harans call them, they are creatures of magical origin to be certain but from whence, I do not know. _

_All these events and encounters have one unifying thread I dread not reveal: bones. Richard's bones. At every encounter, ever location, fragments of bones are gathered and returned to me. I fear my grandson's hidden legacy may well bring ruin upon us all. I can feel it in the wind, the sun, the land. Something is coming."_

- Journal of Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander, Wizard of the First Order.

Rannith Skaald shifted uneasily on his feet, a trickle of doubt entering his heart at the sight before him. Glancing towards the other eleven men he could easily see their own unease through the swirls, whorls, and striping of their facial woads that marked their battle commendations, their rank, and their prowess as protectors of their people, the Fulani.

Like he, they wore baggy worsted wool trousers each with twill patterns and subdued colors of red, yellow, and blue denoting their house or affiliation tucked into heavy calf length leather boots. Many of the boots were lined with an assortment of furs: fox, ermine, and more rarely wolf. Over simple deerskin tunics could be seen more wool and fur over tunics, those of greater wealth sporting metal brocaded bands on the arms. Over all this was an eclectic mix of armors of many types: unadorned woven leather, chain mail, and heavy plate; but each were bearing the red nine pointed star prominently over their heart: the symbol of the Fulani nation. Some wore helmets or fur caps but most heads were unadorned with their uniformly black hair in a variety of styles: cropped, shaggy, and even long knotted braids twined with bits of metal, wood, bone, and other tokens.

They were the pride of the twelve huntlands that made up the Fulani, each chosen by their leaders in this time of need to defeat the enemy that had swept in from the icy wastes overrunning their lands and threatened their very existence. Already half the huntlands had been lost to the savages that wore nothing but furs over their tanned skin. They seemed immune to the cold and painted their faces like demons. Some rode large lumbering beasts with protruding bone teeth and thick long haired hides. Worse they called forth ancient sky creatures the eldest of elders heard called drakons that made the icy earth burn as if on fire. They were many, they were fearless, they were relentless, and they killed all, no mercy for even the most innocent.

The Fulani has named their enemy after the mythical ice beasts that mysteriously claimed men when the blizzards came: the Laguia.

And as was done according to the old stories of the Laguia, the elders had called upon the people's most powerful wielder of magic: the necromancer Melantha, a woman from a long line of spirit women who had protected their people for generations.

Melantha was not dressed like the rest of their people and aside from her strange ice blue eyes she bore the same dark hair and pale skin common to them all. She wore a simple silk shift of pale yellow with strange symbols around the banded edge over her skeletal frame and simple leather sandals over rabbit fur wrapped feet. Were it not for her reputed power, Rannith would have feared his gaze alone would knock her frail figure over; the same power she was exhibiting before them at this very moment as she summoned the protector she had promised the elders. A hero who would sweep aside all those who threatened the Fulani.

Before him in the cave carved into the Kerljaarg, the sacred granite mountains, Melantha chanted holding a long leg bone above her head as a young girl similarly dressed awaited nearby with a collection of bowls, herbs, bottles, and a small fire. The torches around the chamber cast the symbols, emblems, and drawings on the dark granite into an orange cast. But more importantly, the flames added an eerie glow to the Grace drawn upon the raised portion of the floor.

He watched Melantha carefully place the bone in the center of the Grace, fascinated as she spoke softly as her hands caressed the air around the bone, but never touched it. Shortly a soft glow came from the glyph even as sickly greenish wisps of smoke began to rise from it. Stepping away, Melantha reached for the jar her assistant had ready.

Her chanting grew as she began to circle the boundaries of the Grace, pouring a dark thick liquid from the jar as she went. As the liquid that touched the lines of the grace hissed and flared into a blue-white flame, he realized she was pouring blood. Fear trembled through him at remembering terrible stories told of those who invoked blood magic with a Grace but he held firm, trusting that the necromancer knew what she was doing. She had never failed the Fulani before and he saw no reason for her to do so now despite his trepidation.

His resolve wavered as a terrible rumbling echoed through the chamber, the ground trembling in a way he associated with the mountains of fire south of his homeland that spewed forth rivers of melted earth and made the air smell of rotten eggs. It soon passed as Melantha's reed thin voice grew louder and stronger. By the time she was shouting the once glowing bone was engulfed in a mass of swirling blue flames and green mist, lighting seeming to crackle where the two touched. A shrieking sound was slowly building as the mass itself grew in size.

So focused on the growing torrent before him, he startled at the scream of agony from Melantha. At her feet lay a bloodied bone knife, blood pouring from arms she had slashed from elbow to wrist. Recognizing a call for the Creator's benevolence he was stunned as she thrust her mutilated arms into the flames. Once more she shrieked in agony as her skin crisped, then blackened, and was stripped away in the terrible torrent.

A sudden flash of light blinded them and silence fell over the room. Rannith blinked his eyes clear of the after effects, and could not stop his gasp of surprise.

Melantha stood within the grace unharmed, a small smile upon her face as she looked down. Following her gaze, it took him some time to realize what his eyes saw: a creature with scarred flesh stretched over a skeletal frame, flesh missing in many areas to reveal muscle, tendon, and organs. It wasn't until Melantha turned the poor creature onto its back that he realized it was a man, horribly disfigured with injuries, but clearly a man. He could see the poor man's chest rising and falling as if screaming, mouth of broken teeth and jaw stretched so wide Rannith wondered if the tendons there would snap, yet no sound escaped.

He watched in silent horror as Melantha took a silver pin from her assistant and kneeled down chanting softly before ruthlessly driving the pin through the unfortunate creature's skull, pinning it to the ground. The symbol on the pin head flared to life as silently the man writhed on the ground, his lone remaining eye opening to reveal terror, shock and pain.

At a strangled choking sound from the man Rannith felt his unease grow, the feeling that what was being done here was wrong, even evil. But still he did not move; could not make himself look away even as he heard the sounds of retching from some of the other men.

Melantha took another pin, grasping the man's right hand and facing the palm down to the ground. Rannith noted the hand missing two fingers as Melantha chanted before driving the pin through the hand and into the ground. Like before it too glowed, and a whine now erupted from the man who otherwise remained immobile. Upon repeating the procedure for his left hand, the whine had become an inarticulate cry. Rannith's fears and outrage grew as she adjusted the man, the victim now in Rannith's mind, so that his foot lay flat to the cave floor mangled leg twisted in an awkward angle to accommodate the position and again drove a pin into the flesh. As she finished the victims left leg, he drew his blade, having seen enough of this evil as the man's tortured screams now relentless echoed through the chamber.

"Enough, Melantha! I don't know what evil you are spawning, but I'll not have it," Rannith growled. Murmurs of agreement from the gathered men echoed in the chamber, some of whom also drew their weapons.

Melantha's strange eyes flared, magic evident, and she stood slowly with a sneer. "You would presume to tell me my work, Rannith of the Skaald?"

"This is not the work of necromancy, of calling the spirits of our ancestors. This is the work of the Keeper," Rannith shouted, "I would rather our people die than be tainted by the Master of the Underworld."

He was dismayed as Melantha laughed, a sound disconcertingly like that of a young girl. "Oh, this is not the Keeper's work. I assure you. This is necessary to protect our people. "

Another tormented scream furthered his resolve. "I don't care. Release this poor spirit back to the Underworld where he belongs."

"Or what?"

Rannith looked at the other three who had drawn their weapons getting their nods of support. "We will release him," he stated evenly.

Without a word Melantha waved her hand casually dismissively. Rannith felt himself thrown back slamming painfully into the granite face. He was thankful to have worn his fur liner under his armor as he actually felt the heavier plates crack and buckle, pain searing into him as he felt shard of metal bite into his back. He shook his head and looked up. Two of the men were barely recognizable as such, just twisted masses of flesh, looking as if they had been skinned. The third man stood shuddering, choking sounds coming from his throat at he seem to be slowly torn apart from the inside.

Rannith knew there was nothing more he could against Melantha so his did all that could: he ran for his life. Without looking back he fled down the long entrance to chamber, ignored the group of men huddled around a fire at the mouth of cave looking worried at the sounds emanating from the cave's depths, and ran into the blizzard that had arisen during the time in the cave. He had to inform the elders of what Melantha was doing.

He never saw the glowing eyes watching him as he ran by, a pair peeling off from the group stalking the land, breath silently swept away in the roar of the storm. The largest of the forms sniffed the man's tracks, whining once. As a whole the pack started back down the path he had come. Their prey awaited them. The hunt would begin.

"Should I go after him?" The young girl asked of Melantha, who had finished sliding the last pin into the man's right foot.

"No, Helana. His escape is unimportant and the storm will take him soon," Melantha replied, turning her attention to the remaining eight men who were visibly trembling in fear.

"I see now which of you are brave enough and worthy enough to protect our people," Melantha spoke soothingly. "Men who realize we can not let old ways lead us to our doom."

An older warrior by the name of Olsan stepped forward, eyes briefly glancing to poor wretch whose cries had tampered off into a constant droning moan. "What is it you wish of us, Melantha? Are we to become like that."

Melantha shook her head solemnly, seemingly shocked. "How could crippling our best warriors save our people? No, I wish to bind your strength to this great warrior spirit so that he may be strong and determined to protect us."

"Rannith Skaald claims this is dark magic," Olsan said, gesturing. "And you have just said you brought forth a spirit."

"Yes! A good spirit," Melantha grinned, "Would the Creator allow me to call forth one of the great warrior spirits if She did not approve? If I have stolen him from his rest in the Underworld then where are the Keeper's minions to punish me for my audacity?"

Olsan looked troubled as he glanced at the corpses. "But you killed these men."

"Cowards who put their ignorant fears above the welfare of our people!" the necromancer declared. "You eight have shown you think before you act. Learn the reasons for the actions before committing to them. That too is qualities that will assist our new protector."

She looked down as if worried. "I only desire to help our people. I am our people's necromancer, our spirit caller. I have much power, but in this I need you, all of you, to do what is needed to save our people. Am I wrong in this desire?"

Melantha seemed surprised when Olsan stepped forward and gently touched her shoulder. "Of course not, Melantha, there is no dishonor is asking our assistance. It is we who are honored to be the ones that will ensure our people's victory over the Laguia."

"Come then," Melantha gestured towards her assistant who came forward with a small steaming pot filled with a bubbling black substance. "Let us call forth the four winds and the four elements so that we may bind your strength, you spirits, and your wisdom."

In turn, Melantha painted a mark on each man, chanting anew with each new symbol calling forth their properties into the men before guiding them to stand at a point within the Grace. Earth. Air. Fire. Water. Followed by the winds: North, East, South, West. With each new element added the Grace flared and the moans of the body at the center lessened until there was only the sound of his ragged breathing underlying Melantha's whispered chants.

Melantha stripped the shift from her body, exposing her naked flesh to the chill air. She blackened her hands with paste and stepped into the grace, ignoring the shocked looks of the men. She chanted prayers to the Creator: life bringer, healer, of fertility, and virility, as she straddled the man. Giving one last beseechment, she placed her hands over his heart, staining his chest as she drew another symbol: infinity. When done she leaned over him, meeting the one brown dazed eye with her own and gave a gently, reassuring smile before leaning in to kiss him.

Melantha howled in pleasure as the magic lashed out, rending, tearing, and stripping the eight men of their flesh, blood, bones. Of their life, memories, their very existence. Her eyes glittered as each man died in gruesome manners determined by their marks.

Olsan marked with fire, seemed burn from with his, blood like lave burning through his skin as he screamed. The man marked with water seemed to melt before her, drowning in his own fluids and blood flowed from his eyes, ears, nose, and throat. The man of earth's flesh dried, cracked, hair withered, until collapsing to dust. The man of air was perhaps the most fortunate, for the air merely left his lung and never returned as he suffocated. The four men marked by the winds were not so fortunate each torn apart, limb from limb by unseen forces, their blood spraying Melantha and the man with a fine red mist.

In a painful flash it ended, and Melantha's lungs burning for need of air. Limbs trembled weakly as she collapsed over the man. She could already feel the once broken flesh beneath her was smoother, feel the strength of magic start to emanate from the man. Lifting her head tiredly, her eyelids drooping with weariness, she felt a frisson of passion as she saw the man's scarred face was nearly whole. Through the patina of red she admired the handsome face and strangely blank eyes watching her.

Unable to resist, she kissed him chastely before quickly pulling away as she felt him start to sit up. She smiled as she pushed him down gently; his frame easily complying in its weakened state. She yearned for the time when the body would be truly whole. But for now she would wait, there was still much to do.

She whispered to him softly as she gently traced the remains of the dark stain into patterns on his chin, neck, and shoulders.

"Be still my Skinflayer. Soon your spirit's task will be complete, your flesh whole, and my master will release your from your worldly prison so that he may take back what was stolen by the Usurpers. I regret using one such as you, but it only one such as you with the blood in your bones that can allow my master to enter this realm. When he is done he shall grant you your greatest wish: the end of this painful existence."

"Release me."

Melantha was startled at the words. It felt like they echoed through the room, through her mind, through every fiber of her being. It was an order demanding obedience, obedience that would be rewarded. She wanted to obey, to please. She barely was able to stop herself from doing as commanded. She stood quickly breaking the physical contact between them, shuddering at the loss. She scrambled backwards until she was outside the Grace.

In wonder, she saw magic flaring powerfully in the brown eyes, followed a moment later by the glyphs on head, chest, hands, and feet flaring as well. As he slowly rose, first sitting, then rolling over and kneeling, before finally standing, Melantha felt herself fall to her knees in wonder, ignoring the fearful whimpers of her assistant as her master inhaled sharply, deeply, before releasing a deep tenor of a growl.

"Release me."

Protected by the grace, she never the less felt the power, the demand, of the words sweep through her, very nearly becoming the most single important thing she could possibly do in her life. But she remembered and girded herself, though she was puzzled at His early arrival. She had expected many men to be sacrificed to reach this point.

"I cannot, Master. The ritual is not finished."

A displeased growl emanated forth once more, causing Helana to cry out behind her. Melantha prostrated herself before the man, fervently hoping her words would quell his ire. "Please, great Eternal! The flesh is still too weak. You may damage it if you join with it too quickly."

She trembled as she waited, almost sensing his consideration of her words and the body. After a long time, she felt the magic receded ever so slightly. "Yes, not all is ready. The bones are missing."

Melantha looked up in confusion. "Bones, Master?"

Ignoring her question his eyes glowered at her as he spoke, thankfully the compulsion behind it muted. "Complete the ritual."

"Yes, Master." Melantha snapped her fingers at Helana who quickly scurried away to fetch the next batch of men.

The man watched her, face expressionless. "What is your name, Fleshweaver?"

"Melantha, Master."

"What is your desire?" She could feel the promise behind the question, promises of dark power and fulfillment.

"Nothingness," Melantha found herself whispering her deepest secret aloud.

The man lifted a hand toward her, flesh still scarred and fingers missing. "Then release the binds and I shall grant your wish."

Shaking herself from the strange hypnotic state she had allowed herself to slip into she tore her gaze from his. "I cannot, the flesh is too weak. I will complete the ritual but ask one favor."

"Name it."

She was surprised at the command, expecting more demands from him. "I fear an enemy, the Laguia, has come to stop your entrance into this domain. I have not the ability to defeat them on my own. Perhaps there is something you can do."

Wordless, the Skinflayer looked at each body in the chamber, and smiled mirthlessly before clapping his hands together. In moments the bodies disintegrated shadowy forms arising in their place vaguely resembling the men they had once been.

"Master." It sounded as if a hundred whispers spoke at once, the air chilling as three shadowy figures joined the eight that had arisen around the grace.

"Destroy the Laguia."

"Yes, Master." With that the apparitions disappeared.

Melantha bowed her head low. "Thank you, Master."

"Gather the bones and the instrument of truth."

"I don't understand," Melantha asked confused.

"I can not be fully unbound until the bones of this flesh are gathered. The spirit cannot be dispelled until the instrument of truth is in its possession. Gather them." He ordered.

Melantha nodded wordlessly, fearful to admit she wasn't entirely sure what the Skinflayer wanted. After a moment she shook her head, feeling foolish. What did it matter? She had her ambitions to attend to, the Skinflayer but one path to attaining her goals.

Melantha smiled at hearing Helana's bright voice telling the men she escorted through the cave to the main chamber that they must be wholly committed to the ritual, which any that balked would be cut down as cowards and traitors to their people. Her words had the desired effect as the men voiced their enthusiastic support for the ritual they would be partaking in.

As Melantha rose and turned to the men, the group the twelve halted. Their eyes widened in shock at the tableau before them noting blood splashing the walls and floors and the few scraps of tattered cloth and ash not knowing it was where men once stood. She noted some of the men's eyes flare with lust at the sight of her naked formed, even bloodstained as it was, before cooling into wariness at the sight of the naked man standing within the glyph.

"By the spirits, what have you done?" A young man asked his eyes staring in horror at them.

Melantha chuckled merrily. "Raised a Skinflayer."

The young man screamed in terror, turning to flee from the chamber. Three others chased after him, though whether to catch him or join him was unclear. Regardless, none got more than five steps before their bodies were shredded within moments by an unseen force.

"Join me."

Melantha cringed as she felt the Skinflayer's words sweep over her, the magic of the words flowing over the men. She watched as the remaining eight men's eyes fill with fear even as they silently approached the Grace. Melantha scrambled to block them from crossing the magical boundary.

"Wait, Master. I must mark them and you properly."

His dark eyes watched her for a moment, before nodding. "Do as the Fleshweaver commands."

"Yes, Master." The men intoned in unison.

As before Melantha went through the ritual inserting silver pins with glyphs though the man's shoulders, knees, elbows, and side of the neck. Unlike previously he never once spoke nor flinched nor showed any sign of discomfort even as blood trickled from the punctures.

She had just finished placing the eight marked men around the grace when a growl came from the entrance of the chamber, shadowy amorphous figures accompanied by dozens of glowing eyes. Melantha quailed as she felt their gaze settle on her. Before she could call out in warning, the attackers leapt forth in a sea of fur and fang, snapping teeth and fearsome howls.

The ancient hunters of the Fleshweavers had come. The Lodi Pack, eaters of flesh and bone.

Melantha recognized the pack leader, Nokai, as she leapt forth, pushing a man through the barrier of the Grace. He shrieked as his formed instantly twisted bones and limbs splintering back into unnatural angles as his flesh became the deathly gray of a long dead corpse. The other men fought back viciously, needing no commands or magical imperative to defend against the enraged wolf pack. Never the less fell quickly to the onslaught.

Melantha felt her lips rise in a sneer as the wolves turned on her, preparing her magic to be used against them. A rolling crackle of lightning streaked out from the Grace, or more properly, the Skinflayer's new right hand with its missing finger. The wolves howled in pain and anger. Roaring as one the pack turned to deal with their new enemy. Melantha grinned as another stream of lightning cut through the wolves, slicing cleanly through some, tossing others back to the entrance with such force their bones were heard to crack.

Melantha's grin grew as Nokai, the pack leader slowly rose from where the Skinflayer's force had thrown her, blood matting the wolf's fur. The wolf with the strange blue and brown eyes whined at the sight of her pack now lying dead and gutted. Magic flared in those eyes as they stared at the Skinflayer, the sight bringing a jolt of concern to Melantha who had never heard of a Lodi with magic. The stories only said the Lodi hunted magic, consumed it, not that they used it. After a moment the wolf slunk off into the cave and out into the storm.

"Hunt."

Melantha flinched as a twisted creature that had been the man to cross the grace without the proper incantation let out a frightful screech and scrambled after the wolf. Melantha laughed in joy as she realized Nokai would soon be dead thanks to the Skinflayer.

"Thank you, master," she giggled.

Curious when she received no reply she turned and gasped to see the bodies of the Lodi Pack begin to twitch and rise from where they lay and drag themselves to the Fleshweaver who stood with his head raised upward, arms held out with palms down, the glyphs on his body glowing brightly. She watched in amazement as the wolves passed through the barrier unharmed to accept the man's touches.

Only under the Skinflayer's caress did their flesh char, rend, and bony protrusion twist and pierce the flesh from within. In moments, twenty hideous perversions of the Lodi Pack circled the Fleshweaver making strange gurgles and yips as their eyes burned a glowing blue each bearing a symbol Melantha did not recognize on their misshapen heads.

"My barren wolves," The Fleshweaver whispered in pleasure. "Go my friends. Hunt. Find the bones and the instrument of truth."

And with a howl that Melantha suspected could be heard in the Underworld, the wolves sprinted for the entrance. Melantha gasped in surprise as some of the twisted creatures seemed to disappear into wisps of smoke before they even left the chamber.

"Will these be sufficient?"

The sudden question startled her. She was surprised to find eleven more copies of the twisted minion that had been sent to hunt Nokai, each warped and perverted visages of their former selves, all with gray leathery skin, empty black eyes, and a number of rends, tears, and fearsome protrusion of bones. She suddenly understood the Skinflayer's meaning and forced her self to not smile, silently thanking the Lodi Pack for securing his trust in their instinctual drive to hunt people such as she.

She bowed low and long to ensure he did not see her smile. "For now, my lord, there are many enemies that will try to stop your emergence. I may need more of your servants."

"You shall have what is required."

"Thank you, Master."

Once arisen, she approached the Grace, noting his flesh seemed to be nearly fully healed save the odd injury here and there: the scarred half of his face and a missing fingers for example. She knew by the feel of his magic that he was ready for the next stage, the next step in unleashing his power.

"Is the flesh strong enough, Master?" She asked, earning a silent nod.

"By the rules of this world, where is the equal of this flesh?" He asked, apparently of similar thought.

Melantha gestured to her young protege, who approached meekly, nervously glancing at her mentor for reassurance before looking to the Skinflayer.

"She is your equal," Melantha announced. "Her name is Helana. Her flesh in untainted and pure. If she pleases you she is yours."

"You give yourself willingly?"

Helana nodded eagerly, hands clasped together. "Yes, Master."

The man held out his hand. Helana eagerly climbed the small step onto the platform and crossed over the Grace. The moment her hand touched his, the young woman screamed and fell dead, body now withered and aged.

"She is not the equal," he noted without apparent anger or concern. He simply turned his dark eyes on Melantha. "I require the equal of this flesh to unify the spirit."

"It will be done, Master, I'll see to it immediately," Melantha assured him. She was now worried, franticly trying to think of how she could accomplish her search, to figure out who she should even be searching for.

With sudden understanding, she smiled. There were only two possibilities that came to mind and both would come of their own accord given the proper motivation.

"I know who your equal is now, Master," she told him with a small smile. "She will come."

"You have until the first dawn of the midnight sun for it to be so." He warned her ominously.

Nine months.

Melantha repressed her snort of derision. The Laguia was surely be defeated by the army she would have the Skinflayer lead by then and she would have no more need to pretend to bow and scrape to him.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"_The days seem so long here in Aydindril and yet time slips by so fleetingly. My duties, while important, at times seem hollow. If not for Zedd and my family, I think I would leave for those forests Richard loved so dearly and leave this lonely, troublesome duty for another. But trouble is sweeping the land, strange happenings that keep Zedd and the other wizards in deep discussions, the D'Haran army edgy, and Cara more irritatingly persistent in her new role as protector to the D'Haran's proclaimed Queen Mother - me._

_It's the children's birthday tomorrow, six years, and this night I can't help but see Richard so clearly in the twins when they laugh and tell me of their day spent with Zedd over supper. I pray to the spirits that Richard watches over them and loves them despite my cruelty in denying him knowledge of them in life. Four years since he has died, and every night my heart breaks a little more in loneliness at the thought that soon it will be seven years since I last saw him."_

- Journal of Mother Confessor, Kahlan Amnell

She quietly sat in her chair watching the throngs of people entering the chamber for her thrice weekly public viewing sessions. Guards, mostly palace guards accompanied by a pair of D'Haran Dragon Corps soldiers, watched the gathering people with intent. To the side she noted the brown and maroon robed Minders, self appointed guardians of her children and herself. While they espoused peace and spread the word of the Creator she knew them to be deadly warriors in service to the House of Rahl as much by choice as by their bond of ancient magic.

Turning her mind back to the day's schedule, she noted the usual assortment of residents from the city, mostly Midlanders but increasingly more D'Harans becoming a common sight in the throng. She recognized a scattering of people from other distant lands in their exotic attire. For a moment her attention became riveted to a tall, bear of man with deeply tanned skin, black hair and dark eyes wearing clothes and armor altogether unfamiliar to her.

"Interesting," murmured Zedd from above her left shoulder. She glanced over with a curious expression as he leaned forward slightly. The old wizard, while looking at her clearly indicated with the tip of his head, the petitioners. "The tall fellow wearing the wolf fur and armor."

"Yes, I saw him," Kahlan replied. "I've never seen the like."

"Neither have I." Cara put in from her right; leather creaking softly as she apparently shifted her stance.

"I've never seen one before, but by the looks of him and the descriptions I've heard I suspect he may be from beyond the northern Rang'Shada Mountains. The Firelochs even. I believe he is a Fulani," Zedd stated with some wonder in his eyes and a decidedly excited look at the prospect of meeting such a traveler. "But I can't imagine why one would be so far from home. They prefer the icy wastes beyond the mountains."

"He probably wants to know about all the strange attacks," Cara said neutrally.

Kahlan sighed. "I hope you are wrong."

For years since the battle of Tamarang reports had come in from across the Midlands and beyond of strange attacks, mutilations, death and destruction from a variety of creatures; each equally loathsome as they were deadly. The worst, and most common, reports were of the hideously malformed and vicious barren wolves, so named after mythical D'Haran beasts whose description bore a striking similarity to the monsters that now roamed the Midlands.

She had originally tasked General Bain with dealing with the problem, a task the old D'Haran General had taken to with relish. Unfortunately, Bain had met a rather grisly end when the barren wolves had struck Aydindril last summer. Zedd had quickly dealt with the creatures and asked to take over discerning where they came from. She had agreed but was becoming concerned about the old wizard's increasing attention and secrecy over each new incident involving the creatures. While she was grateful there had been no further attacks in and around Aydindril itself the opposite could be said for the rest of lands.

"Mother Confessor, we're ready to begin if you'd like."

Kahlan looked up from her thoughts to find the new minister, Channen, bowing his head deferentially with a small smile. She smiled back at him and nodded her consent, grateful for his unflagging loyalty. She still felt ashamed and embarrassed at having been duped by Channen's predecessor, Minister Clathborne and his treasonous alliance with Prince Fyren for so many years. Years that had resulted in heartache for so many and for her personally, heartache that continued to this day. Had she simply dealt with Fyren when he had declared himself High Lord instead of acquiescing to the Council's wishes for clemency none of the trouble would have happened.

As Zedd often reminded her it was impossible to know of the Kelton's conspiring with some council members to start a war between the Midlands and D'Hara and then use her previous relationship with Richard as evidence that the Confessors could not be allowed to rule the Midlands Council. The plot had quickly unraveled when Richard's death had not brought chaos to D'Hara as Fyran and his conspirators had hoped. In the end Fyren had been captured, confessed, and executed for his crimes as had a number of his supporters.

As a young couple approached she schooled her features, banishing thoughts of the past and concentrating on those before her, to her duty.

Rannith Skaald took in the gathered people with a curious eye, wondering briefly what such people made of him. Everything about them seemed frail: their thin forms, thin clothes. He was certain a good breeze from across the ice field near the fjords of his clan's huntland would have frozen the lot of them in moments. He was certain his own attire was equally strange to them: hides and fur combined with his leather and plate armor over his dyed wool clothes. He allowed himself to grin at the thought of a number of the females fainting at the site of his woad, an accoutrement he had quickly forgone since he had reached the northern most territories of this strange land- the Midlands they called it. Certainly his early encounters had been puzzling and left him wondering at people daft enough to think his clan's facial marking somehow made him an evil spirit.

His journey had been surprising, he reflected. Certainly he had expected to die when he had been beset upon by two wolves of immense size after he fled Melantha's ceremony. Despite their driving him into another cave even with drawing several wounds on them, when a third even larger wolf had arrived he was certain he would die. Instead, as he shivered in fear, the larger wolf had approached with strange glowing eyes, lowering its head as if in a bow. In that instant he knew he had to run, to find help for his people in the south, to find the woman in white that flashed through his thoughts. And so he left at once, the pair of wolves following him on his long journey.

He stroked the wolf fur cloak over his shoulder, fondly remembering his companion's and regretting both had given their lives to see him safely across ice fields, past the Skaaldfjord, and through the forbidding Rang'Shada Mountains his people feared so. On the other side he did not find the barren evil lands his people believed to exist, but a vast, verdant land flush with life. His first views of the Midlands had shown him a land of vast grasslands, forests, and vistas he would always hold dear.

He had quickly worked his way down south, welcoming the warmer weather despite it making his clothes itch sometimes. The people too were not as he had been taught: cold and aloof but were of friendly dispositions not unlike those of his kith and kin. He had learned much in his travels, including the common language used by the one he searched for: the woman in white. He had been shocked to learn that this woman was a very powerful figure and bearing a title from his people's legends: Mother Confessor.

Amongst the Fulani, the Mother Confessor was better known as the White Mistress. A number of legends and sayings existed about the White Mistress's powers, some Rannith found hard to believe. But common to all was the description of that power, which it was the most powerful magic to ever exist. And that the White Mistress was the sole controller of that power. Nothing could stand before it, not man, woman, child, or beast. Also common to all was the White Mistress' desire for compassionate justice. Certainly one of such power and compassion could defeat a Fleshweaver with ease. Legend said the White Mistress had done so many generations before beyond count, during the Great War.

He certainly hoped so.

He waited impassively, ignoring the crowd around him chattering away about matters they thought important, hoping for a glimpse of the woman these people in Aydindril called the Mother Confessor. Certainly this city of Aydindril and the palace seemed to bear true the old stories of a grand palace from whence the White Mistress came and he'd marveled at the architecture. But that aside, he hadn't seen anything to warrant much hope that these people would prove any more effective against his enemies than his own people.

After a time, he noted a trio enter the rapidly filling room, two women and an older man. He recognized the simple robes as that of a wise man, perhaps even a wizard. The red leathered woman was certainly interesting and he could clearly see she was skilled and deadly in intent. Rannith, upon seeing her piercing blue eyes take in the gathered crowd, instantly concluded this woman would be a fearsome and deadly opponent. But it was the final woman who made his gasp, the woman in white.

The White Mistress.

She appeared just as he had always imagined since he was a little boy: dark hair that flowed over the shoulders and back, lightly complected skin boasting a hint of tan, eyes as azure as the skies, slim but with obvious strength and flexibility of limb, and moving with the grace of a crafty predator. That is how the stories depicted the White Mistress. He was pleased to see they were not wrong.

He smiled as he studied her, noting her poise as she too took in those around her with a definitive air of authority and assurance, of power to her gaze. Rannith felt a small twitch of a smile come to his lips as he noted the discretely hidden pommels of daggers in the woman's boot. He doubted many even noticed them within the long folds and flow of her white dress.

He noticed when he had garnered her attention as well as that of the old one and the one in red. He pretended not to notice but sensed her interest was piqued by his presence. He only hoped such apparent interest bode well for his plea. More so he was worried he would no greet her properly and thus be summarily dismissed from her sight. Legends spoke too of the White Mistress unwavering demand for proper etiquette.

Sighing in annoyance at himself, and ignoring the nervous glance of an old man dressed in colorful silks before him, he shrugged off his concerns. Either he failed or succeeded. There was no point worrying over it. So he silently watched and waited, getting a feel for the Mother Confessor's character and attitudes through her interactions with the petitioners. Most of the decisions he found reasonable, if sometimes confusing, but always the decision was rendered with fairness and compassion. Few went away grumbling and none with reason to claim the ruling unfair. He wondered why those who were said to be adults could not settle such simple disputes amongst themselves and wasted the White Mistress' time with such frivialities.

After a time, with only the old man before him, one of the palace workers he'd seen working alongside the announcer scurried over to him, feathered pen posed over a small leather book. "May I have your name, sir?"

"Rannith Skaald, huntsman of the Fulani Skaaldren," he replied, imitating those he'd seen before him stating his name, position, and clan.

"And your petition?" The man asked, earning a glowering look from Rannith. None had asked the previous petitioners such a question and he felt little inclination to speak of such an important matter to a mere page.

"That is for the Mother Confessor's ears."

The man swallowed nervously and bowed as he backed away. "Of course, Lord Skaald."

"Huntsman Rannith," he corrected, gentling his tone slightly. Midlanders had often misapplied honorifics to him he did not deserve through their ignorance. He was but a lowly huntsman for his clan, not a Clan Lord. It was embarrassing but he did his best not to chastise them for their lack of knowledge.

"Of course, sir. Huntsman Rannith." The man quickly scurried away to the announcer, where a seeming dispute ensued over the page's writing. After several minutes of this whispered argument the Mother Confessor's minister of affairs rushed over.

When Rannith glanced up to the Mother Confessor he was certain he saw a hint of amusement in her eyes and lips before quickly resettling her features into a placid serene look. Rannith found himself grinning at the exasperated look of the old one and ill concealed look of annoyance of the blonde in red leather. After a moment things were settled, the minister walking past him with an apparent apologetic nod.

"I present to the Mother Confessor, Rannith Skaald, huntsman of the Fulani Skaaldren." The barrister cried out, earning a murmuring of interest from the crowd at his obvious exotic origins.

He quickly stepped forward, bringing his fists to his armored chest as hard as he could resulting in a loud thump before kneeling, head bowed to the Mother Confessor. "Long life to the Mother Confessor, may her wisdom guide us to the truth."

Silence. Rannith swallowed hard as he waited for the reply, becoming somewhat nervous when she remained quiet. He could hear the crowd rustling nervously but ignored them hoping he had translated his clan's words of formal greeting correctly to her tongue.

"Long life to you, Huntsmen Rannith. Please rise."

Rannith smiled in relief as he quickly regained his footing. "Thank you, Mother Confessor, for your graciousness."

He could see his words were mildly puzzling to her, or perhaps she was still considering his greeting. Regardless, she gestured for him to continue. "I am interested to hear what has brought you so far from home to see me. I am told you are from beyond the Firelochs?"

"That is one name for the Skaaldren, Mistress. I am from the Skaald clan, protectors of the Skaaldren huntlands."

"I am honored for such a visit then. Please how may we be of assistance to our friends in the north?"

"Thank you, Mistress. Long have the Fulani lived according the words and teachings of the White Mistress since she last graced out lands so long ago. We have lived as she and the great wizards taught, protected the lands and the people from evil. But a new enemy swept over us, terrible in their manner and deeds. But it is not they I seek you assistance with, but of an old evil the White Mistress herself warned us of so long ago."

He was surprised to see her eyebrows twitch upward in concern though her demeanor remained unpeturbed. "And what is this evil?"

"A Fleshweaver stalks the land, Mistress. She has seduced many to her cause out of fear of the invaders. A few of us tried to stop her, but she is too powerful and the others allow their fear of the invaders to override the fear of the evil creature she intends to bring into the world."

The old man stepped forward, concern lighting his wizened featured. "A Fleshweaver you say?"

"Yes, wise one," Rannith agreed. "I believe it to be…" he paused looking around warily before continuing in a whisper "I believe the evil the Fleshweaver summons to be a Skinflayer. I will never forget the screams of the poor spirit she has torn from the spirit realm as the Fleshweaver worked her dark magic on him."

"That can't be, such necromancy is a death sentence!" The old one shouted, Rannith cowing his head in fear.

"Zedd."

Rannith sighed is relief as the Mother Confessor's voice seemed to cool the old man's temper somewhat. Once he had returned to her side, an intense look of thought creasing his brows, the Mother Confessor turned on him.

"Please continue."

"I came here, remembering the stories of the old oath the White Mistress gave us, a promise to the Fulani that should such evil rise that we could not defeat that we were to go in search of you. It is said that you would know what action to take to eliminate this peril." Rannith looked down shamefacedly. "I'm only sorry I could not reach you sooner. The journey was long and fraught with peril as the Fleshweaver's minions seemed to be everywhere. Most terrible were the barren wolves. My protectors died keeping me safe from the creatures."

"Barren wolves?"

Rannith's concern grew at the slight alarm in her question. "You've hear of them, Mistress?"

She nodded slowly, sharing a look with the old one. "Worse. I've seen them and know what they are capable of."

Rannith shifted nervously from one foot to another in concern. "The wolves are loose upon this land? So soon? The Skinflayer must indeed be as powerful as the Fleshweaver claimed for this to be so."

The Mother Confessor nodded her head in confirmation. "Will you remain after the last petitioners? We have much to discuss."

"I would be…" Rannith paused, feeling a familiar chill take hold in the room, his breath starting to frost into the air. His terrified eyes rose to her. "They're here."

No sooner than he had said the words, the air near him seemed to ripple and twist before two large formed burst forth, misshapen bodies of fur, bone and skin a grim parody of the animals they had once been. The barren wolves snarled, sniffing the air before settling their gaze on Rannith. A moment later they pounced, a blur.

Rannith mange to release his blade and swung, catching one wolf on the tip. The other's jaw locked on his neck, fangs sinking into flesh. With a vicious wrench, Rannith felt the muscles and tendons snap, his bone crunch and soon lost control of his limbs as the beast continued its thrashing. Dimly he could hear the shouts of men and clang of metal as his vision faded.

The rushing sound and heated air following by a shriek told him all he needed to know even as the wolf released him. Wizard's Fire had been cast and the wolves would suffer for it. They would harm no other, but it was too late for him. The magic in the bite was burning through him.

The old one, the wizard, knelt over him, giving him reassuring words of comfort. Rannith tried to warn the wizard but only a chilling wet gurgling sound came forth. He was relieved to see the wizard eye him suspiciously before carefully moving his hands over his body lips murmuring a silently before withdrawing.

The old man looked down at him in sorrow. "I'm sorry."

Rannith managed a smile, trying to express his relief to the wizard that he had not risked his own life to save Rannith. He feared the magical poison would harm any who tried to heal him. He only felt frustration at being unable to urge them to stop the Fleshweaver before his final breath left him. Above him he could see the White Mistress kneel over him with worried eyes asking the old one questions and receiving his answers in compassionate tones. Over her shoulder the blonde in read leather casting her eyes about in obvious frustration and anger.

Determined not to give up and knowing his fate, Rannith tried they only thing left to him, he silently mouthed his plea over and over in the hope the old one would understand.

"Stop the Fleshweaver."

Shortly before he closed his eyes, Rannith thought he felt a peculiar tremor from beneath him his final thoughts on the strange sensation.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"_Weavers of flesh, despoilers of spirits,_

_The flesh weaver's bones be grounded in granite._

_With fires of life, their flesh must be razed._

_In order to rest under a final grace."_

- Translation of First Era Necromancer Ferax's _The Dancing Bones_, 13th stanza.

"What was he whispering?" Cara asked as the palace servants removed the now shrouded form of the Huntsman. Her question Zedd from his musings of the charred corpses of the barren wolves.

"I believe he said: stop the Fleshweaver," he replied. "Unfortunately without him, we have little idea on where to start."

"What of this Skaaldren he mentioned?" The Mord-Sith asked.

"If it is the place I believe it to be, it is far north of here, beyond the Rang'Shada Mountains in a place where it is said the land is of eternal night and day," he replied absently and he kneeled down beside the larger remains of the wolves and prodded a piece of bone surreptitiously.

Cara grunted her displeasure. "Well that's helpful."

"I'll have Minister Channen go through the archives. If it is true the Fulani encountered a Mother Confessor, perhaps there will be some record of such an event." Kahlan noted.

"Unlikely. By the sound of it, that meeting happened shortly after the last great wizard war three thousand years ago but before the dark times. Much was lost during Madga Searus' reign despite the efforts of the Confessors and Wizards of the time." Zedd waved one hand dismissively as he picked up a piece of bone and peered at it closely.

"Still…"

Zedd nodded reassuringly over his shoulder to Kahlan. "It wouldn't hurt to look. I'll look into the old archives Richard uncovered at the Keep and see if there is some reference to the Fulani." Rising to his feet he waved the small sliver of bones between his fingers. "Beside I need to test this bone."

"Is it like the others?" Kahlan asked, surprising the man. She smiled slightly though it was clear she was making an oblique inquiry into his interest in the remains. "I'm told a number of such bones have come into your possession since these creatures have appeared in the Midlands."

Zedd eyed her for a moment before nodding as if in answer to some unspoken question. "I've discovered the creatures are linked not only to each other, but also to someone else. Their master, most likely."

"The Huntsman seemed to believe these wolves are tied to this so called Fleshweaver, whatever that is." Cara noted.

Zedd shook his head. "No, the Fleshweaver did not create these beings. They started appearing before this. Of this I am all but certain. As to what a Fleshweaver is…well, let's just say there is a very good reason all wizards would do their utmost to destroy anyone vile enough to invoke such magic."

Both women shared a concerned look at Zedd's somber tone. Kahlan rested a hand gently on Zedd's forearm. "You intend to go after this Fleshweaver?"

"If there is even a chance, however remote, of a living Fleshweaver I must. They delve into necromancy, dark magic. They aren't benign like necromancers who animate old bones for protection or speak with the dead to console loved ones or ask for guidance. Fleshweavers rip souls from the Underworld destroying them even as they corrupt the flesh they have recreated, heedless of the damage done. Once their magic has ended, the damaged spirit is often cast off without regard to their suffering. Such spirits can become insane and enraged and use the shells they inhabit to wreak havoc upon all. Even if their flesh is destroyed, it is said neither the Creator nor the Keeper can abide their presence and they are cast into the void of oblivion, forever lost to all." Zedd closed his eyes wearily. "It is a terrible fate that should be wished upon no one."

"Then the bone would not help you find this Fleshweaver," Cara noted.

"Yes, but they may prove useful in solving another problem."

"The disharmony in magic you once mentioned after Richard died," Kahlan said.

"Yes," he replied quietly. "I doubt it's tied to the Fleshweaver, but it may be this imbalance that allowed the Fleshweaver to rise to power in the first place. Either way, I will have to deal the situation sooner rather than later."

"You shall have whatever assistance you need, Zedd." Kahlan replied. "Just let me know…"

A loud crashing as the great doors to the main hall crashed open into the granite pillars, the wizard Hennik rushing towards them, his maroon robe flapping behind him only adding urgency to the open fear upon his face. "Wizard Zorander!"

Zedd frowned as the man slid to a stop in front of him, only Cara quickly grasping the man's good arm stopping him from tripping over himself as he came to a halt. "What's going on?"

"The Keep!" Hennik pointed back the way he had come with his shorter limb, the one Zedd had found he could not heal, gasping out his words as he tried to catch his breath. "You must come, Zedd. Your private alcove…something is wrong."

While over the ensuing years since Zedd had met Hennik at Tamaranghe and found the man to be quite arrogant he also discovered the D'Haran born wizard to be quite skilled and not easily daunted by even the most powerful of magics. For the man to now be showing such blatant fear did not bode well.

"I must go see what's happened," Zedd told them.

"Do you need assistance? I could send troops if need be."

"No, they would be of no use against magic." He glanced over to Cara, "A Mord-Sith on the other hand."

Cara brought herself to attention. "I will accompany you and then report back the situation to the Mother Confessor." Without further word, she started off leaving the wizards behind.

Kahlan stopped Zedd briefly as he and Hennik started to follow. "Be careful, Zedd." She said worriedly.

"Of course," Zedd replied. "It's probably nothing, a rat tripping one of my protective webs or something."

"I'm sure," Kahlan replied, playing along with the old man's attempts to assuage her fears.

Zedd merely stood there numbly looking at the destruction before him. A short distance away down the hall and around the corner he could hear Cara's barely audible muttering, clearly still displeased he had ordered her and Hennik to wait for his signal before proceeding down the corridor to join him. He could hear Hennik reiterate the need for such precaution, but such warnings made little difference to the annoyed woman.

Zedd allowed his eyes to flow over the ruins: shredded paper, broken bottles and crockery, oils, unguents, and tattered tapestries, shredded rugs, and a number of items whose origins Zedd no longer was able to clearly discern. More concerning to him was not so much the physical damage, but the damage he could feel inflicted upon the magic that protected this place. It was gone.

His worry growing, he quickly passed through the heavy doors on the other side of the room noting the pitting and scars now inflicted on their surface. He waved his hand to ignite the room's oil lamps, not surprised when a sole lamp flickered dimly to life beside him. Sighing he cast a light spell that illuminated the room in a soft blue radiance. He hurried towards a recessed alcove, noting with concern the doors there had been torn away, with only the remnants of the iron hinges remaining as twisted blackened bits anchored into the granite wall.

He cursed silently under his breath as he peered inside finding only a few scraps of cloth, the rare chip of bone, and what appeared to be a smear of blood. Everything related to his research of Richard's death and the imbalance in magic was gone, including the Sword of Truth. The light weight of the pouch he carried on his belt felt suddenly much heavier as he realized he had only two pieces of evidence left, both from Tamarang.

He carefully pulled the pouch out and emptied the contents in his hand: a chipped and cracked broken tooth with inscribed emblems and the remains of human phalange, Richard's finger. After a moment's consideration he carefully reached for one of the bone chips in the alcove.

"I wonder," he murmured as he laid the chip next to the tooth. Almost immediately it glowed. A moment later it shattered before disintegrating into mere dust particles. He had the answer he had been looking for even if he didn't like what it meant.

"Nothing is ever easy."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"_The bones know all. You only need know how to ask the right question." _

- Adie the Bone Woman as quoted in _Feppendreaus' Guide to the Mysterious_

The light mist and the surprisingly level of humidity in the air lent an ethereal air to the already gloomy light cast over the heavily wooded area from cloudy skies. Were it not for his knowledge of this place and what it meant, the old wizard might have found the change curious given the season. Even with his knowledge he had no desire to come here of his own accord, but his need was desperate as was the dire situation he had uncovered. Thus, he was here and not alone.

Zedd brought his horse to a halt, prompting the others to follow suit. He dismounted with a slight huff and surveyed the nearby home, a rough hewn affair of lichen and moss covered logs with peaked roof and a small covered porch. Bit of bones, chimes, and beads hung from a few strands near the doorway to the home but was otherwise unremarkable.

"Is this the place where this Bone Woman you spoke of lives?"

Zedd ignored Cara's question while Chase stepped forward to quietly assuring the Mord-Sith that as far as he knew this was the place the old sorceress was known to live. While Dell "Chase" Brandstone no longer lived in Westland, he maintained his contacts through his position as a Passage Guard. The guards had been established by the First Wizard and Mother Confessor after the sudden breach in the boundary between the Midlands and Westland had made it possible for the two to trade with one another. This breach also had led to several conflicts due to swindlers and purveyors of magic trying to take advantage of the Westlanders. Chase had eagerly accepted the position given his background and ties to Westland and had served admirably. When informed of Zedd their purpose to coming here, he had insisted on accompanying them.

"The bones say you be coming here today, wizard," came raspy voice from the side of the house. Stepping from the gloomy shadow the wizened old woman with strange white pupil less eyes seemed to look at each of them in turn before settling once more on Zedd.

"Then you know why I am here," Zedd stated simply.

"That the bones tell me not. Only that you be here. And that they be disturbed." The old woman replied. "The dead not be pleased with those who meddle with the bones."

"I'm told a Fleshweaver is alive," Zedd said.

"Impossible!" She snorted in derision. "Wizards finished them off long ago. Vile creature they were. Dangerous to everything."

"And yet one lives."

She looked at Zedd with an intense expression. "You be sure?"

"The barren wolves stalk the lands."

She waved her hands in dismissal. "Bah! I have heard such rumors from men with foolish imaginations. I not be believing them."

"I'm no commoner befuddled with drink," Zedd countered. "These barren wolves are very real and very dangerous."

"True." Adie seemed to freeze at his words, worry creasing her brow. "If there be wolves, then there be a Fleshweaver. Worse, a Skinflayer be summoned."

"A Skinflayer? What exactly is a Skinflayer?" Kahlan stepped forward, pulling down the cloak of her drab traveling cloak.

The old woman took her in for a moment and nodded once in an apparent greeting. "Skinflayers be powerful creatures. Bones be used to summon forth a spirit of powerful magic, dangerous magic that is said to be that of the Creator, the Keeper, and that which lies between."

"The veil has magic?" Kahlan asked in confusion.

"Not the veil," Adie shook her head. "No, the place between life and death, that which is older than the Creator or the Keeper."

"I don't understand," Kahlan said in confusion.

Zedd sighed heavily. "I do. At least a little of it. How powerful is this magic?"

"Beyond comprehension," the woman replied, but she smiled crookedly. "But there be none with such power born in this era to be summoned back as a Skinflayer. Immense power be needed. If it is a Skinflayer, it be a weak one. Dangerous, yes, but easily defeated."

"I know who the Skinflayer is," Zedd said, pulling out a pouch and held it out to Adie, ignoring the surprised gasps and questions of the others demanding to know who. "I have a bone tied to him. I need to find him and this Fleshweaver to end this abomination."

After a moment, Adie took the pouch and dumped the contents into her hand. Closing her eyes she murmured softly, before jumping as if poked sharply from behind. She hissed slightly thrusting the object and bag back into Zedd's hand.

"Well?" The old wizard asked.

"That bone be from one of great power." The woman glared in displeasure, but the anger did not seem directed at Zedd but at what she had seen.

"I know. Did you see?"

"Yes, the bones call to one another. This one, he be to the north, far north," the old woman replied, hunching over as if in fear as she glanced about them wood surrounding her home. "He be angry, vengeful. The spirit may not be the man you knew."

Zedd looked resigned at her words. "I understand, but I must go. At the very least the Fleshweaver must be stopped. Can you help us find him?"

Adie seemed to consider his words for sometime before nodding slowly. "I will, but it will take some time to prepare."

Zedd handed the pouch back to her reluctantly. "If it is to be done, it were best it be done quickly."

"The bones agree."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"_For you to read this a convergence of dark and light has occurred, a contradiction, the impossible: a paradox. And it is because of that this tome is required, a paradox within itself."_

_- _Prologue _Doxie's Inviolable Exigency_.

"Darken Rahl."

He gasped in surprise, squeezing his eyes shut at the sudden light and relative warmth surrounding him. Drawn out moans and piercing wails cut through his ears. The writhing of flesh tears at his own flesh. And yet he welcomes these sensations, realizes them for the phantom sensations they are. For none of the sensations truly exist in the Underworld except by the wishes of the Keeper. He had almost forgotten them in the complete nothingness that had become his existence, a torment that defied explanation. And one he had earned fully for his failures.

"Darken Rahl."

He gasped in surprise at the flicker of pain across his naked skin, quickly rolling to his knees, and bowing his head, hair hanging to conceal his view of what was around him, confused.

"Master?" His voice sounded raw, husky, unused. It matched his confusion. His punishment had felt like an eternity but he sensed he had but suffered only a small portion of his due.

"Who do you serve?"

"You, my Master." The well-known words came easily to his lips.

"Do you wish to serve me again?"

Desiring not to return to that torment of nothingness he answered honestly. "Of course, Master."

He was surprised to find himself once more adorned in his maroon and gold robes, though in the eerie light of the Underworld, the appeared washed out.

"Then rise, Darken Rahl. I have a duty for you to perform. Complete it and you shall once again serve as a vassal in my Dominion. Failure will mean the end of your existence."

"I understand, Master." Rahl said, bowing low to the darkness around him.

"No. You do not. But you will." Was the ominous reply.

"What do you wish of me, Master?"

"You must find Richard Rahl and the Mother Confessor, Kahlan Amnell."

"And bring their souls to you."

"No. Richard Rahl was already in my dominion, honored in his rest for his deeds. That rest has been disturbed by a Fleshweaver."

Mildly curious as to his brother's demise, Darken Rahl was more concerned about his departure from the Underworld. He frowned in consternation, remembering what little he could recall of Fleshweavers, an ancient name for a much reviled branch of necromancy. So named for their reputed ability to bring back men from the Underworld from mere fragments of bones and the cost of many spirits, they had been hunted to extermination. Or so Rahl was led to believe. "But Master, how is that possible. There hasn't been a Fleshweaver in millennia."

"There is one called Melantha. She works for my enemy."

Rahl was surprised at this. "Surely, the Creator would not enlist the aid of such a person."

"Not the Creator, but an older enemy. It is why I need you. You are connected to Richard Rahl by blood as he is connected to Kahlan Amnell through a similar bond. Only you possess the abilities to do this task before us."

"I will do as you require Master but who is this enemy?"

"It is called the Eternal."

"And this Fleshweaver, Melantha, is an agent of this Eternal?"

"She attempts to bring forth a Skinflayer, an avatar of the Eternal, through the one who can envision Its existence. Only a mind capable of accepting the possibility of the Eternal can accept the Eternal. Already she tears the Veil."

Darken Rahl was confused by the Keeper's words, puzzling over the meaning briefly before latching on to what he thought was most advantageous to his Master. He smiled slightly. "But if the veil tears, then you can be free to walk the land of the living."

"Perhaps, but not if the Eternal manifests. This above all is my concern."

"Of course, Master. What must I do?"

Darken Rahl watched as a large, leather bound tome with heavy iron latches and silvery geometric symbols appeared at his feet. On the spine he could see what appeared to be lettering, but did not recognize the language at first glance. Beside it lay a map case of similar material and design. He felt a wave of magic wash over him as he hefted the book and map case up, noting the previously indecipherable words morphed and changed, the title now clear to him: Doxy's Inviolable Exigency. He very nearly dropped the tome in surprise at possessing such a well known and powerful volume, thought lost for the ages during the Wizard Wars. He realized just how important this first task was.

"Seek out the Bone Woman, Adie. Deliver this book and map to the Mother Confessor and tell her this: the one who holds the Seeker's heart true can find the path to the Land of Endless Night and Day."

"Yes, Master. And what of Richard? What am I to do with him?"

"The bridge is fading but still strong enough to find him. Do so. And convince him to fight with all his determination against the Eternal."

"If the Eternal is as dangerous as he seems, then that task should be simple. Richard has the unfortunate belief in protecting all life," Darken Rahl noted not understanding why his Master seemed to think the task an arduous one.

"Richard is a divided spirit, he must remain so to prevent the Skinflayer's rise. Should the Eternal unite his warring halves, then we will have lost and be no more. It will be expecting you. It will be waiting for you. Be cautious or the Eternal will have you."

The gathered group silently watched the old sorceress adding ingredients to the small pot filled with a strange dark brown mixture, the incongruous scent of cinnamon and apples wafting from the contents. As she murmured incantations an occasional flare of light or wisp of strange colored smoke arose before she finally dipped an oddly shaped ivory colored cup with symbols around the sides into the concoction. Turning to them she gestured with her free hand toward Zedd.

With a quick glance to Kahlan, he stepped forward as Adie drank down the entire foul looking brew.

"The bone," she demanded as she dropped the cup into the fire. The flames flared a brilliant mix of white and blue, orange sparks casting upwards into the night sky.

Zedd quickly placed the bone tooth into her waiting hands, which she quickly grasped, pressed lightly between her palms as she began to chant. Her voice grew louder and louder by the moment, the woods around them turning forbiddingly silent as a strange moan seemed to fill the air.

"What's she doing?" Kahlan whispered.

"Calling upon the dead to assist us," Zedd replied with an equally quiet voice.

Adie's sudden cry drew their attention back to the old woman as she started to fall to her knees. Zedd reached her in time preventing her from falling face first into the fire. After a moment, Adie stopped trembling, slowly opening her sightless eyes before shoving the bone back into Zedd's hand as if it scalded her.

"Are you all right?" Zedd asked

"No, I'm not. None of us are," Adie said, rising to her feet and looking pointedly at the fire. A sudden roaring to life of the flames now cast a green pall over those gathered as a form took shape there.

Zedd stepped forward, hand poised to unleash his magic if needed against a possible foe.

"There's no need for that, Wizard," Darken Rahl said, looking somewhat amused. "I'm not here to harm you, any of you. I bring a message from the Keeper."

"Darken Rahl, the situation must be dire if the Keeper sent you," Cara sneered earning an amused smirk in return from her former master.

"Charming as always, Cara," Rahl replied.

"What do you want?" Kahlan demanded cutting off any further reply the Mord-Sith may have had.

"Ah, Kahlan. Lovely to see you as always," Rahl smiled smoothly. "It seems we have mutual interests."

"And what interests might those be?"

"Well, my brother, for one." Rahl replied. "The Keeper is greatly displeased that someone dare steal a soul from his dominion, particularly such an important soul, one that holds such a place of honor. The Creator more so that one of Her champions has been torn from his reward."

"What is it you want?"

"To provide you with the means of finding Richard."

"And why would you want that?"

"So that the one who did this would be sent to enjoy the Keeper's hospitality for their crimes," Rahl smiled cruelly. "The magic they use is dangerous to all. It must not be allowed to continue."

"So, you, plan to assist us," Cara asked skeptically.

"Precisely," Rahl replied waving his hand before them. A heavy, ornate book appeared before them alongside what appeared to be a map case. Zedd kneeled down to study the book's cover and spine.

"The Keeper said these tools would assist you in your quest to find Richard Rahl and in doing so destroy the Fleshweaver."

"A book and map will do this how?" Kahlan asked.

"This is no ordinary book," Zedd whispered, clearly amazed. "This is Doxy's Inviolable Exigency. It's been lost for centuries."

"Indeed. My master indicated you would need the knowledge in the book to defeat the enemy this Fleshweaver brings forth."

Zedd's eyes flicked up to Rahl. "Yes, the Skinflayer. It would seem an easy enough task to complete."

"Not this time. The Keeper was quite clear that this Skinflayer is a vessel for something powerful, something trying to manifest into both the realms of life and death. Were it to do so would be disastrous for al," Rahl said earnestly.

"Something?" Kahlan asked.

"I don't know its name. All I know is the Keeper called it the Eternal." Rahl's blue eyes glittered dangerously as he turned them on Zedd. "As one wizard to another, let me make this clear to you: the old accords mentioned in the book must be completed no matter the cost. The Fleshweaver must die. The book will provide the necessary answers as to how this can be achieved."

"I'm very well aware of my duties as First Wizard," Zedd voiced turned gravelly before turning to open the map case and withdrew its contents. Unrolling the scroll of paper he scanned over the contents. After a moment he frowned. "What sort of map is this? I see it clearly shows the known territories but I see no markers."

"Only the one who holds the Seeker's heart true can find the path to the Land of Eternal Night and Day," Rahl said. "Only such a person can use the map to find Richard Rahl. Obviously you can see the landmarks since he is your family, your blood, but you do not hold his heart."

"Let me see it," Kahlan said quietly, holding out her hands. Zedd carefully passed it over to her. She frowned slightly as she looked at the map for a moment, before blinking her eyes rapidly to dispel the sudden moisture pooling there.

"I see a floating marker, the symbols that were marked on Richard's pendant, above a glowing point," she said, her voice shaky. "It's far, far away from here to the north, beyond the Rang'Shada Mountains." She peered closer as words started to glow slightly. "The Barren Wastes."

"The Land of Eternal Night and Day," Rahl confirmed. "That is precisely his location."

"And how do you know this without the map?" Zedd asked suspiciously.

"Among the living, blood calls to blood. For the dead, spirits to spirits. I've tried to reach him," Rahl shrugged. "But the link is failing the longer Richard is away from the spirit realm. I will not be able to find him once the first dawn of the midnight sun arrives."

Zedd frowned at Rahl's words. "Kahlan, where do you see him on the map?"

After noting the area she pointed out to him paused, Zedd looked skyward for a moment before nodding once. "That's approximately the first month after the spring equinox. That's not much time."

"That is seven months from now," Cara noted, glancing over Kahlan's shoulder to peer at map. "With such great distance, we may not be able to make such a journey."

Zedd quirked an eyebrow up in curiosity at Cara apparently being able to at least see some of the map. The Mord-Sith merely gave him a glowering look before shrugging.

"Zedd, we should go. Now!" Kahlan quickly rolled the map up.

"Wait, Kahlan, wait."

"No! We have to get to Richard!" He caught her in mid-turn.

"And we will," he assured her. "But the journey will be long. We must be properly prepared."

Seeing Kahlan's worry and impatience getting the better of her, Zedd grasped her shoulders gently and pulled her close and very carefully spoke to her. "Kahlan, we will find him. Rushing off unprepared and unaware may cause more harm than good. Seven months is plenty of time. We've covered much more ground than that in shorter time in our journeys together."

Reigning herself in, Kahlan took a deep calming breath. "You're right, of course."

Turning back to the fire Rahl had appeared in, neither were much surprised to see his apparition gone the last lingering tongues of green fire flickering out. "But we should return to Aydindril as soon as possible to get our mission underway." Kahlan stated resolutely, earning nods of agreement from all.

Adie stepped forward with a slight smile on her face. "I know someone from the Northland. It be years ago I met them and they may not still be alive, but I remember their name: Svenal Orken. He had a son, Bale. He said he was a Daruman, people who live and sail the icy sea on the far side of the Rang'Shada Mountains at their fishing village: Taalsrung. If you be able to find them, perhaps they can help."

"Thank you, Adie," Kahlan grasped the old woman's hand giving them a gentle squeeze.

"No, I be thanking you," Adie's small smile grew larger. "The bones be pleased you will bring them rest."

As the last screams of the woman echoed away into the night, the creature huffed in frustration, leaping from the rent remains of its victim eagerly looking for the others who had been with her. It was disappointed to see the misshapen forms of the wolves snapping at one another, blood smeared across muzzles and bony protuberances. At It's hiss their glowing eyes turned toward it, growling in response. It was time to continue their journey back to their master.

The creature reached over It's shoulder sharp nails gently tapping the weapon strapped firmly there to assure it remained undamaged. It knew It's master would be displeased if anything happened to it, such displeasure ended it extinction, no more hunting or tormenting the vile things that cursed this world.

The wind rushed through the limbs of the trees above them, carrying a scent, just a hint of something. The creature hunched down growling as the wolves sniffed the air. Danger lurked out there in the dark, yet it could not see it despite it excellent vision. It reasoned that it might have been what the creatures of this world called a gar. So far gars had proven to be particularly dangerous to its kind though it knew not how. All it did know was it could not kill a gar even with the barren wolves assistance. The gars had proven ruthlessly efficient killers of all creatures.

What lurked out there was no gar. It was certain of that.

With matched growls the wolves tore off into the wood in the direction the scent had originated. It peered intently through the gloom, barely able to make out the shapes of the wolves. It startled as a large figure seemed to appear out of the mist, the painful howls of the wolves piercing the air in the seconds they were torn asunder, the stench of the internal organs filling the air even at this distance as the viscera spilled onto the ground.

It trembled, fear seeping into its thoughts. It had never feared anything before, save failing its Master. Now it feared the form approaching it: a massive wolf that seemed to glow in the moonlight, with eyes of brown and blue. In a flash of clarity it suddenly knew what it faced.

It was one of the hunters, the eaters of the flesh.

It flashed its teeth at the wolf as it came stalking closer, patiently treading over the roots and rocks as if floating on air, ever graceful. It knew it had to flee. It turned and ran as fast as it could.

It made no more than ten strides when the wolf's massive jaws sunk sharp teeth into it and shook it head furiously, tearing, rending. It soon knew no more, Its existed ended to the sound of tearing flesh and snapping bones and a lone unearthly screech.

The wolf stopped its attack once the ghoul had been torn apart, limbs scattered about the forest floor, and foul smelling blood and entrails cast about upon leaves, brush, and smeared on trees. She raised her head sniffing the air delicately before deciding no more dangers were present. Satisfied, she sniffed the torso of the ghoul briefly before grasping at the leather strap there and began gnawing on it.

It took some time but eventually the wolf's sharp teeth cut through the leather band. Carefully getting a firm grip on the leather, the wolf began to tug with all its might, occasionally shaking its head to dislodge the putrid corpse off its intended goal. Eventually, the wolf was successful and paused to rest briefly as she stared at the sword's scabbard gleaming dully in the moonlight.

Pleased, it let out a howl of victory, long and loud.

Looking northward into the forest, the wolf knew she had a long journey. She reached down and tried to grasp the sword with her teeth, taking several tries before it was finally getting the weapon firmly seated in her mouth, like carrying a favored bone. Once set, the wolf took off in an incredible burst of speed, quickly leaving behind the site of the battle and its gruesome slaughter.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"_With bones borne from a bloodline of sufficiently powerful bearers of magic, the Fleshweaver may reconstruct the body of the unfortunate so chosen. The greater the magic of the bones, the more fearsome the creature constructed. The process damages the spirit, stripped from their place in the Underworld, and they endure terrible, endless suffering; it maddens them, sickens the mind and body as the soul rots within. Such corruption drives even the purest of souls to inflict their suffering in the most ghastly of ways: from their attunement with the dead to the rending of the flesh of life. This creature is a Skinflayer._

_Heed this warning most of all: beware the rise of the Avatar."_

- Excerpt, _Doxie's Inviolable Exigency_.

Screams echoed through the chamber before dying out into gasps, the man hunched over suddenly jerking back and gasping in pain. Blood flowed freely from the new symbols carved into the flesh, muscles twitching and flexing under the linen that wrapped around his waist in modesty. Brown eyes flicked open, rage flaring with the magic as it turned the man's dark irises nearly white.

Melantha peered at him from the safety outside the grace. "My Lord?"

"You try my patience, Fleshweaver!" The magic behind his words caused a stinging sensation on Melantha's skin and an echo pain to tremble through her limbs.

"Your host?"

"He rests."

Melantha nodded her head warily at the words. She watched nervously as the Skinflayer's eyes took in the room, anger flaring at what he saw: the absence of the instrument of truth.

"Where is the instrument?"

"Your servants were killed, Master. The instrument, missing." Melantha explained, fearing the response her words would bring.

Surprisingly, the Eternal seemed to calm, eyes strangely distant as if both looking at some distant horizon and yet directed inward. After a time, a small twitch on his face that might have been a smile arose. "No matter. The instrument comes."

Remembering Melantha's presence the Eternal's smile was shed, scowl on his face in annoyance.

"Why have you summoned me without finishing the ritual?"

"The equal to the one you inhabit is not yet arrived, my Lord." Melantha bowed low. "I'm sorry, but I am not able to hasten her arrival. But I call you for your enemies continue to gather. I need your assistance once more."

Melantha remained silent as she felt the magic crawl over her skin, a strange stinging sensation making her skin feel as if she had just dived into the icy sea as some of her people did in the yearly ritual welcoming the winter. While she did not allow her thoughts to be betrayed upon her placid face, her concern was growing over the ever increasing power of the Skinflayer; power that was increasing faster than she anticipated forcing her to speed up her own plan hastily.

After a moment, the Skinflayer huffed out an annoyed breath. "What is it you need?"

"The enemy we spoke of before still comes despite your minions best efforts. The enemy is many and Fulani warriors few. Even your guardians have little effect in slowing their onslaught." Melantha said.

"I see none with which to raise the legion you seek, Fleshweaver." The Skinflayer noted, gesturing to the empty chamber with a strangely amused look, not really smiling but hinting at it. "I am not fully manifested in your world to simply eradicate them."

Melantha smiled wickedly. "But you can, my lord. Call to the bones. The huntlands hold many ancient creatures of power awaiting the rebirth you can give them. The magic of your avatar can do as I have said."

She watched his handsome face blossom into a smile, a dark glittering arising in his eyes as green and black tendrils of smoke arose from the ground.

"Yes, how simple a solution." He laughed gently before closing his eyes, the runes and symbols of his flesh growing brighter as he started chanting.

She could feel the air around her turn chill, her breath frosting the air, the oil lamps flutter out as the essence of all things around him was drawn towards the grace. In a terrifying flash, Melantha felt herself thrown back against the far granite wall, a shockwave of light and sound expanding outwards. Shaking her head clear she shuddered at the massive cracks and fissures now in the chambers granite wall that reminded her vaguely of spider webs.

She looked back to grace to find the Fleshweaver collapsed, blood and a strange yellow-green fluid draining from his nose and mouth. His eyes seemed to seer her flesh as he fixed his gaze on her and pointed one hand towards the entrance, steam rising from his sweat soaked flesh and hair, an incongruous sight given the chill of the air. "There is my legion. My gift to you, Fleshweaver. They are yours to command. Do not fail me again."

Wordlessly Melantha ran outside, sliding to a halt at the scene before her. After a moment she began to laugh. Creatures beyond imagining were clawing forth from the land, legends, monsters and nightmares given birth. All at her command.

Everything was nothing, this place he found himself retreating when the pain of the flesh was too great to bear.

There were no words that he knew that could adequately describe it. It was blank and yet existed, an eternal nothingness of everything. When he thought of it, tried to decide what to call it or how to describe it he felt his mind fracture, splinter, and pull apart into nothingness. This empty place was the color of nothing: not white or black or any color he could name. It was simpler to think of it as the color of nothing, so he did. It was easier to sleep here, away from the pain and confusion of the flesh, ignore the dreams and nightmares that plagued his thoughts with fragmented images that both pleased and terrified him.

After a time of nothingness, there was suddenly an object. A tree his mind identified. He had been staring into nothingness remembering forests and suddenly there was a tree. It's vibrant green leaves were startling in the nothingness, the grey-brown bark of the trunk and arms alluring to the touch, rough yet supple.

He found himself suddenly happy and at peace. He laughed at the wonder of the tree. A thought came to mind and a moment later what he desired appeared.

He was standing next to a small pond on a small muddy bank, a gentle waterfall feeding into the pool with a gentle burble. Nearby a glen filled with grass and a small fire was going. The entire place was surrounded by trees of all sorts, the scent filling his lungs with amazing aromas that were so sharp and clear that for a moment he wondered if they might suffocate him. He looked upwards and grinned at the clear, sun filled blue sky, enjoying the warmth on his skin through the dappled shade of the massive tree limbs above.

As he wrapped himself further into the wonderful place he felt his pain and fears wash away with satisfaction. With a sigh, he sat at the edge of pond idly noting the softness of the simple shirt and pants he wore on his skin before dipping his bare feet into the cool water. He enjoyed the sensation, idly noting the water felt strange, not feeling as his fragmented memory told him it should. He frowned slightly but then shrugged his concern away. He just wanted to stay here, forget the pain and darkness nibbling at the furthest edges of his thoughts.

"Impressive."

He didn't startle at the voice but merely looked around. That voice sounded familiar somehow. But he wasn't sure. After a moment's debate on whether he had actually heard the words he decided the simplest approach was the best.

"Hello?"

"You hear me then?"

Glancing around feeling his unease grow, he nodded. "Yes. Who are you? Where are you?"

A gentle laugh answered his question. It wasn't threatening or cruel, but it didn't seem particularly friendly either despite the light and lilting tone. "I could ask the same of you but since you asked first I am Eternal. I am everything."

"I don't understand."

"You understand more than any other," the voice replied. "Of all the abominations I've seen since I returned, you I find most intriguing, Richard."

"Richard? Is that me?" He felt confused at what he was told but felt a sense of truth to them.

"It is what others call you."

"Oh," he replied, mulling the name over for a time feeling that somehow the name did fit him.

"You have no idea how special you are, Richard. It is fitting that of all those of this vile creation only you show any spark of worthiness of my gift."

"Your gift?"

"Yes," The voice of the Eternal sounded bitter. "My gift was stolen from me, corrupted to cause so much harm."

Richard felt a niggling of understanding arise along with memories of his life. "Someone misused your magic."

"Then you do understand," The Eternal replied, pleased.

Richard looked down wincing in pain as he remembered his death, the final moments of pain as the magic consumed. The memory grew in force, fraying the world around him as the trees twisted, the water boiled and steamed, before he started to scream in searing agony.

"Stop, young one. Be at peace."

And with those words Richard found himself lying on the bank gasping, the pain gone, the idyllic scene he had created restored. He felt sorrow rise in him, tears escaping his eyes in relief and loss and guilt.

"Why did you hurt yourself?"

"What?"

"Why did you bring your pain upon yourself here? It nearly consumed you." The Eternal asked.

"I don't know what you mean. I remembered…dying." Richard swallowed. "I died misusing magic."

"I see," the Eternal said clearly troubled by the words. "Why?"

"I wanted to protect people."

"And in doing so you caused death and suffering?"

"Yes." He felt guilt wash over him.

"You have nothing to feel guilty for," the Eternal's voice filled Richard with peace. "You cannot be held accountable to the crimes committed upon you, the lies ingrained into you to hide the truth of your existence."

"But I did…"

"No, you did nothing wrong. The evil ones who stole my gift did this to you. They corrupted you before you even existed due to their selfishness. I had merely thought to destroy your evilness along with the rest when I reclaimed what is rightfully is mine, but somehow you've moved beyond my foes. You have that spark of creation I envisioned from so long ago."

"Who are you?"

"You know who I am, Richard Rahl. You awoke me from my imprisonment with your thoughts."

Seeing Richard's confused expression, the Eternal chuckled. "I was old when the Creator and the Keeper were but children, a passing idea manifested. My thought gave birth to existence. I am everything, I am eternal."

"The Creator and Keeper stole my dream, corrupted it when they stole my power as I pondered that which I desired to create. Instead of the perfection I desired, they created the monstrous world in which you exist out of their pettiness. And your kind, your entire existence, _you_ have suffered for their actions ever since."

"But the Creator created life. The Keeper is the balance: death," Richard said. "They balance one another."

"I'm sorry you've been forced to suffer under their delusions. Surely you can see through their lies. You toiled and suffered through life alone and in pain. You've died and yet your pain and suffering continued. Where is the balance, the mercy I intended for all of existence?" The Eternal paused.

"That is why you are here, Richard. I wish to fix the errors, the cruelty inflicted upon existence. I had thought you unworthy like the rest. I had fully intended to erase you along with the rest, but this place. What you've done here with your mind, untrained and unguided, is visionary, so much like my own. I think now it is better I reveal my plan to you, to allow you to see what must be done for the betterment of all."

"And what's this plan of yours? What would you have me do?"

"I want you to help me regain my power and destroy the Creator, the Keeper, and eliminate their monstrous creations."

Richard recoiled in shock. "You want to kill everyone?"

"No, not kill, Richard. We're going to erase everything from existence that we deem impure."

"No! I won't help you destroy all life."

"Not all life, Richard. Yours would be exempt, a place of permanent peace like this one for you to do with as you please with others I may find like you. The rest of existence is irrelevant and needs to be expunged. From you I will reshape existence as it was meant to be."

"I won't do it."

"You will, my young friend. I see the doubt in your mind already. Consider my words carefully and the injustice of the existence you have known. Consider that you exist because my gift was wrongfully stolen from me. Consider the lost spirit your heart even now directs your mind to seek out to fill that void within you."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"_The Lodi, often incorrectly referred to as the Spirit Wolves, were a magical race said to be able to transform from men to beasts: wolves, fish, birds, and the like, at will. The greatest hunters of this race, the Lodi Pack, became the trusted protectors against dark magic. Deadly, ruthless, and efficient, the Lodi Pack fell into obscurity as their numbers shrank with each new conflict until there were none. _

_Today, they are but mere legends; fanciful creatures of myth lost into history."_

- Chapter 11: Magical Protectors of the North, _Feppendreau's Guide to the Mysterious_

The journey had been long and tiring, the days and nights of travel through familiar lands giving way to the unfamiliar before falling away through the sometimes treacherous stony paths of the Rang'Shada Mountains. While wary of the course revealed via the map, Kahlan never allowed her doubts to slow their progress, feeling desperate to reach their goal in time. She knew the others were concerned over her near single minded determination but few questioned her on it, Zedd and Cara being the ones to ground her when her zealous drive became dangerous.

She knew their journey north had left confusion and concern in their way across the Midlands, especially from the northern lands that had rarely seen a Confessor, let alone the Mother Confessor. She knew her abrupt manner had worried the leaders of the lands they passed through, concerns that were not allayed by the presence of not only her wizard and Mord-Sith protectors but of the four Minders, the D'Haran squadron, and her forewarning that an entire battalion of the Dragon Corps ghosted her party's advance north. She knew Zedd had calmed many by assuring the people that the D'Harans would assist in dealing with some of the creatures now troubling their lands and that their mission, if successful, would end the menace for good.

The lush lands of the forests and open lands of the Midlands had risen into the ominous Rang'Shada Mountains bringing cooler temperatures and increasingly sparse vegetation. At their peak, they had to be careful not to over exert themselves or their horses in the thin air, slowing their pace somewhat. Additionally, the cool air gave way to bitterly cold nights especially when they reached the barren timberline, requiring them to load as much wood as possible on their wagons and the horses. She had been grateful those nights had passed quickly despite the winding path leading them into such unforgiving land several times.

To keep herself occupied during their days, she spoke long and often with Zedd over the book, Doxie's Inviolable Exigency, and their course of action. Some of what she had learned from him was disturbing and sapped her of her belief that Richard could be saved. She tried to not let these doubts gain hold, but it was often more difficult at night as she would watch Zedd page through the book again and again via the limited light of the fire his brow often creasing in concern and muttering to himself.

At such times she would unroll the map and stare at it, letting its magic show the paths to Richard. The fact that the map would highlight several different paths to take disturbed her at times, particularly when debate arose about the direction they should take in the journey. When she had described this peculiar feature of the map, Zedd had merely smiled and commented on the fine craftsmanship involved in such magic noting the cartomancer was of obviously great skill, perhaps a great wizard of old who'd dabbled in such a hobby. Despite her concern, they never wavered from the path laid out for them and Kahlan never once doubted its accuracy due to the speed of their journey.

She smiled slightly as she looked ahead, realizing they would be cresting the rocky path soon and according to the map they would have their first look of the icy northlands. She felt her heart beat faster at the idea that few from the Midlands had traveled this far, and none from Aydindril, in centuries. She nudged Zedd slightly through the heavy wool cloak he had wrapped himself in while his eyes scanned through the heavy book.

At his inquisitive look, she gestured before them with one hand while giving a light snap of the reigns to urge their large brown draft horses onward. "Where almost there." She said with a tired smile, earning a similar look in return as he closed and secured the heavy bound volume's latches and slid it into the satchel he had taken to carrying it in.

She heard a slight shifting of metal and creak of leather behind her, knowing it was their D'Haran driver, Kaben. "Lady Rahl, perhaps I should take the reigns?"

"That won't be necessary, Kaben," Kahlan replied easily, knowing her words would not please the D'Haran soldier. She also knew he wouldn't press the matter. He was not particularly tall or strong compared to many D'Haran warriors with a thin face and close set blue eyes but she knew Kaben was quick, smart and deadly accurate with his crossbow and knives. He was as precise and correct with them as he was loyal to the House of Rahl and his preference in referring to her as Lady Rahl despite her attempts to encourage a more familiar relationship. A number of the D'Harans referred to her in various titles: Mother Confessor, Queen Mother, Queen Kahlan, Mistress Kahlan, but Lady Rahl was the only one that inexplicably made her uncomfortable.

After a moment she heard him sigh, knowing whatever thoughts he had about determining a way to take back the reigns of his charges had given way to his obedience. "As you wish, Lady Rahl."

Zedd chuckled, looking over his shoulder at the D'Haran. "Be grateful for the rest, boy. They'll be plenty of work for you soon enough."

"From your lips to the Creator's ears, wizard," Kaben replied sounding pleased by the idea. Given his restless nature, Kahlan was grateful for that and felt a brief stab of guilt knowing the driver was bored and antsy without his work. Her own boredom was why she had him teach her everything about the wagons and horses. That and to keep herself occupied from more troubling concerns.

She could hear the sound of hooves at a faster clip than that of their caravan come along side her wagon. Glancing over she was not surprised to find Cara astride a large roan mare, her maroon leather all but hidden under the black and red wool wrap. Pulling down the cloth of the black balaclava from her face, Kahlan swore she could see a hint of a smile on the Mord-Sith's features.

"What is the name of this town we're heading for?" Cara asked.

"Adie said it was called Taalsrung Bay. The people call themselves the Daruma," Kahlan informed the Mord-Sith.

Zedd took up the explanation from there. "Taalsrung Bay is said to be the only location from which to foray out into the Frozen Sea to the Firelochs and beyond."

"Perhaps with some luck, we'll have shelter in their town tonight," Cara said. Kahlan smiled slightly.

"Are you cold?" Kahlan teased, earning an appropriately icy stare in return.

"I'm fine, but we do need to re-supply before proceeding onward. It's been a difficult journey for the men," Cara explained.

"We also to locate this Svenal Orken or his son," Zedd put in. "I could certainly do with a nice meal, as well."

Kahlan smiled at that. "I'm sure we all could, Zedd."

Turning her head back to the awaiting Mord-Sith Kahlan noted for the first time that Cara did look tired, though she knew the woman would never admit as much to anyone. "Please inform the men, that if Taalsrung is near enough, we will continue onward today. If not we shall stop for the night once we've cleared the pass."

Cara nodded in approval. "Yes, _Lady Rahl_."

Kahlan caught what looked suspiciously like a grin from the Mord-Sith as she nudged the horse into a gallop and merely shook her head in amusement. Somehow the Mord-Sith had figured out she was uncomfortable with the title and on occasion used it to test her patience or as a reprimand for some perceived slight.

After another quarter hours ride, they finally reached the crest and started down, Kahlan gladly giving the reigns over to Kaben at the magnificent sight before them.

In the valley below they could see sparse clusters of trees in the rocky terrain interspersed with grasses. In the distance the Rang'Shada trailed off into a steaming cauldron as the mountain itself seemed to be aglow. Spewing forth from a distant peak was an angry flow of orange flame and gray matter, smoke rising into the sky is giant plumes that wafted out over the icy floe. As this mass reached the water, steam rose and water boiled. In the near distance, the road they were on clearly cut through the forbidding terrain towards a sprawling town with a scattering of what appeared to be farms and grazing lands for sheep and cattle nestled alongside a small inlet. Beyond the town lay a vast body of water in which could be seen massive stretches of ice broken and floating in the gray-green water.

In the bay, a port could be seen with a dozen or so ships, grander in scale than Kahlan had ever heard of. While they were still a distance away to be seen clearly, there seemed to be several types of vessel designs all easily capable of carry dozens of men. Some seemed short and sleek while others were tall but wide and more bulky.

"Magnificent."

Kahlan merely nodded in silence at Zedd's tone, both clearly enchanted by the striking sight before them. Certainly nothing in the Midlands looked like this. Catching similar expressions of awe from her escorts, Kahlan smiled to herself feeling more confident about the journey and success.

"If we push hard, we should be able to reach that town by late afternoon," Kahlan noted to their driver. Kaben merely grinned and started the horses off at a faster pace.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"_At the northern most tip of the civilized world lies Taalsrung Bay, a lone port of call and travel to those venturing into the icy wilds of the Northlands."_

- Chapter 3: The Northlands, _Feppendreau's Guide to the Mysterious_

As Kahlan expected they reached the town in the late afternoon, though it was only shortly after midday that they encountered the first of the inhabitants of the area. The people, dressed primarily in heavy wools and cottons, with the occasional buckskin, silk, and fur, seemed friendly enough. More often than not they would eye the weapons and armor of the soldiers before nodding with varying degrees of friendliness. Some had offered quick advice on where to go and who to see in Taalsrung Bay.

When asked about Svenal Orken they had been informed the man had died several summers back due to something they called the snow madness but that his son, Bale, could be found either at the town's lone tavern, Frostnip's Camp, or on his ship, the _Kragsdrake_.

Kahlan had quickly ordered the detachment to setup near Taalsrung's rarely used corral. The owner and his workers were greatly pleased by the large number of horses and equipment to be tended, especially when informed more would be arriving in the following weeks. The D'Haran squadron commander, Captain Farnes, had reluctantly agreed that she, Zedd, and Cara would seek out Bale Orken without extra guards. She suspected that acquiescence was due more to Cara's glare than her own persuasiveness.

Frostnip's Camp did not look much different than other taverns, perhaps more permanent given the walls were made of granite and mortar and the slate roof was at a sharp steep angle, not unlike many of the buildings in the town and outlying homes on the farms. If not for the noise seeping through the heavy oaken door the simple placard bearing the establishment's name above the door was the only indication of the building's purpose.

Opening the door revealed the usual sights and smells she'd come to associate with taverns in her travels: sweat, ale, and aromas of meat and smoke. She smiled at Zedd's contented sigh, forcing herself not to mimic the wizard vigorously rubbing his hands together in the warmer air of the main room. A number of patrons, fisherman and hunters by the look of them, sat in clusters at various long tables around the massive room, a few sitting near the barkeeper's counter and the open passageway through which serving wenches came to and fro. Few in the crowd gave them more than a glance before continuing on with their conversations; some boisterously loud and others conspiratorially low.

The tavern owner, a large bar of man wearing a bright red wool tunic with long blonde hair and blue eyes gestured for them to come to the bar. A smile crinkled the strange blue tattooing on his face, tattoos matching those on his forearms. As they approached, Kahlan noted several men in the room bore similar marks and clothing.

"You must be the strangers from the south everyone's talking about." The barkeeper noted with a broad grin, revealing several missing teeth. "Name's Rejn Frostnip, proprietor of this establishment. Care for drink or perhaps something to eat?"

Kahlan smiled politely. "We would, but first I was wondering if you know where we may find Bale Orken?"

Rejn nodded with a look of pleased wonder in his eyes. "Are you the White Mistress? Sorry," The large man waved his hand apologetically. "I believe the southlanders call you the Mother Confessor?"

"Why do you ask?" Cara stepped forward, suspiciously taking in the barkeep. Rejn raised his hand in a warding gesture, smile fading somewhat.

"Do not worry," he chuckled. "It's just that I did not think it was true that the White Mistress would grace our lands in my lifetime."

Cara's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And who told you this?"

"The spirits said you would come. That a great evil was rising from beyond the Skaald," Rejn said, waving his hand vaguely in the direction of the port and northward. "When the _Kragsdrake_ made port fall with that Fulani warrior, Rannith, many thought him mad with his words of monsters arising. But some became concerned."

"Bale Orken was one of those concerned?" Zedd asked.

"Yes, he journeyed with the wind talker, our shaman, to the Skaaldren where he had a vision from the spirits that foretold the return of the White Mistress." Rejn explained gesturing towards Kahlan. "And there she is."

Kahlan shared an uneasy look with Zedd. "Then you will assist us in finding Bale Orken?"

Reijn shrugged. "I don't know where he is. If he's not on the _Kragsdrake_, then he may be in the woods looking for the Lodi."

"Lodi?"

The big man leaned on his bar with one arm, gesturing with the other as he spoke, obviously enjoying what he had to tell. "The spirit wolves. Their fur is said to be like the snow so that evil cannot see them. Some say it is so because the White Mistress blessed them during the Dark Time with the duty of protecting the land. The fur is a mark of their sacred duty. They appear during times of great evil, hunting and consuming evil before it can harm others. It's said they protect all the northlands from the work of the Keeper. Do you not have such protectors?"

"Have you ever seen these Lodi?" Cara asked curiouslty earning a somewhat abashed look from the man.

"Well, no. Some claim to have seen them but such claims are dismissed. The Lodi Pack has not been seen by many since the Dark Times, when the White Mistress came. Some further south claim they arose during the Great Wizard War in the south when the Bonding Wizard called them forth to protect his land from darkness."

"Bonding wizard?" Zedd interrupted with confusion. "I've never hear of such a wizard."

"I'm sorry, the stories have changed over the generations," Rejn shrugged apologetically. "But his name was said to tie him to the wolves: Alaric Odara."

"I know of no wizard from that era by that name," Zedd thought aloud.

"He has many names among our people but the one most know is associated with the ancient stories of Madda Saris, the White Mistress."

"Magda Searus." Kahlan corrected absently, earning a puzzled look from Rejn. "Her name was Magda Searus."

"Truly?" Rejn asked earning a nod. Smiling to himself he nodded. "I will remember. Thank you."

"You were telling us the wizard's name?" Cara prompted.

"Alaric Ralenssen Odara."

"Alric Rahl of D'Hara," Zedd hissed. "Impossible."

"That would explain the early stories of barren wolves in D'Hara from before the last great hunt," Cara noted, earning a grudging nod of agreement from the old wizard.

Rejn stood up straight in surprise. "Barren wolves! Did you say barren wolves?"

At the silent nods from the trio Rejn looked fearful as leaned in closer, keeping his voice low. "Do the wolves stalk the land?"

"Yes," Kahlan replied, seeing Rejn face fall.

"Then the Lodi will come. It is said when the barren wolves stalk the land, evil is sure to follow, for they are bred by evil." Rejn straightened himself and leaned under the counter, retrieving a pair of axes with elongated lower edges which he sat on the table while he checked the long single edged knife on his belt. Satisfied he nodded grimly towards the door. "We best be off to find Bale. If what you say is true, the Lodi will come and the evil must be faced."

Kahlan gestured to Rejn as he attached them to his belt "That isn't necessary. We can find him ourselves."

"Pfah. I may be old but I'm still a Daruman. It has been many seasons since I've battled but I know the huntlands and the Fulani. If there is evil to be slain I wish to be a part of it. Songs will be sung about such deeds." Rejn said, striding for the door, without seeming care for his establishment or the danger ahead. "Come, my friends. We'll find Bale."

"But what about our food?"

Rejn boomed out laughing. "We find Bale and decide what to do. Then eat."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"_Give thanks when the wolves howl for their song lulls the spirits to their eternal rest and the evil to their eternal torment."_

- Fulani proverb

"He must be in the forest," Rejn said with a one handed wave to the sparse cluster of trees ahead of them barely visible from the nearly set sun. In the other hand he carried a storm lantern for light; similar to one he had passed to Zedd. "It's not far and the moon will be full tonight."

"Perhaps we should simply wait until morning rather than wander around unfamiliar woods?" Cara noted earning a chuckle from Rejn.

"I know these woods better than anyone," he assured her with a gap-toothed grin.

"I'm sure." Cara replied with a skeptical frown.

"Cara, it's not far and I'm sure if there is any trouble we can easily deal with it," Kahlan said, the look in her eyes conveying her shared concern and wariness to the Mord-Sith. Zedd's small little smile seemed to satisfy the Mord-Sith that he too was not as trusting of the stranger as it might seem.

"Very well, Mother Confessor."

They trudged along the stony trail in silence for a time, passing through the outer trees and bushes, scraggly, thin, and far spaced. These soon passed into larger trees, trees with trunks easily two or three times that of a man. The sounds of forest were familiar: insects, the occasional rustling of animals. Rejn walked slower the further and denser the forest got, hand pulling out one of his strange looking hand axes with the elongated lower edge, a _skegox_ he called it when Cara had asked about it.

"A fire," Rejn stopped pointing up to an indistinct glow ahead of them. "It must be Bale's camp. Come." He gestured excitedly for them to quicken the pace.

"Wait!"

They froze at Zedd's warning, turning to see him staring into the dark woods around them. Kahlan and Cara slowly drew their weapons and took up wary stances. Seeing their sudden alertness, Rejn quickly put the storm lamp down and readied his second _skegox_ at the sound of rustling leaves in the night.

"What is it?" Kahlan whispered.

"Perhaps nothing." The old wizard replied.

"_Mistress…"_

The raspy voice came to the left of them, nearest to where Kahlan stood. Cara quickly moved beside her Agiels at the ready. She glanced briefly at Kahlan in silent communication.

Kahlan took a single step towards the voice. "Hello? Who's there?"

"_Mistress Kahlan…" _This time the raspy voice, strangely devoid of any indicators as to whether it belong to a man or woman, was followed a soft giggling sound as a short shadow appeared at the edge of the light cast by the lamps.

"I'm Kahlan. Why don't you come forward and tell us who you are what you want?"

Again there was a strange giggling. Around them was more rustling, easily a half dozen people by the sound of it. More shadows.

"_Want_?"

"Yes, what do you want?

"_Want you to die_!"

The shape leapt towards her, revealing a distorted hideous face, scarred and torn gray skin stretch over a misshapen skull. Kahlan only had a brief moment to note the creature was naked with strange bone like protuberances, the claw like hands, and the malicious hatred in its empty black eyes before the creature was engulfed in Wizard's Fire.

She was instantly on the attack dodging and weaving as more of the creatures seemed to endlessly swarm out of the forest. Slashing, stabbing, they fell easily and quickly but what they lacked in skill, they made up for in number. Kahlan lashed out and one, easily spinning away as another tried grab her earning a quick death by Agiel as Cara covered her back. Kahlan heard Rejn cry out and could feel the air concuss as Zedd let lose with his magic around them.

It seemed their efforts did little as she struck down another of the creatures, her blade becoming stuck in its body. Trying to yank it free she never saw the others come up from behind. Sharp claws slice through her back. She shrieked, wrenching the knife free and turning only to take a solid blow to the face that knocked her off her feet.

Dazed, ears ringing with the blow, she dimly noted Cara was surrounded wiping blood from a split lip and nose, Rejn behind her was on one knee, wildly swing his _skegox_ in an effective defense against the monsters, Zedd beside him burning what looked like dozens more further out into the forest.

A heavy form jumped on her, pinning her to the forest floor with great strength for such a light creature. Its hideous face smiled. Tight leathery skin drew back to reveal sharp yellow teeth as it hissed at her, it's foul breath smelling of rancid and decaying meat. It gave a strangely childlike giggle as it stared at her as if exulting in her helplessness. It was then she noticed the odd swirling glow in its black eyes: green and blue smoke like tendrils clashing, merging, and then separating once more.

"Mistress…Kahlan…" Its mouth widened in an apparent grin, its fetid breath nearly choking her.

The creature widened its mouth and lunged towards her. Kahlan tried to buck it off but only succeeding in avoiding its snapping teeth a mere hairsbreadth from her throat. It drew back, snarling, and tried again.

A large form bowled into them tumbling the creature off Kahlan and allowing her to roll to her feet. She frantically recovered her daggers from the detritus of the forest. Once secured she turned, shocked to see a massive wolf with fur white as snow snap the neck of the creature with a twist of the head before flinging the carcass aside and letting out a howl the sent chills up her spine.

The other creatures seemed to freeze a moment before screeching and charging the wolf. The first such creature cried out as an arrow pierced its skull and fell to the ground, trampled by the others following it. Catching Zedd's eye from the other side of the wolf, she nodded in understanding as he raised his hands. Diving to the ground, the night lit up as Zedd unleashed Wizard's Fire on the now bunched up creatures. A wave of heat roiled over her becoming near unbearable for a moment. The creatures' shrieks filled the air along with the terrible sound of snapping teeth, tearing flesh, and cries of pain. As quickly as the heat of the fire came, it was gone, the forest strangely silent and cool.

Kahlan carefully rose to her feet thankful for the chill air as she tried to catch her breath. The slightest movement to her left had her on the attack quickly pinning the would be attacker to the ground, dagger poised to deliver a killing blow. The man beneath her made no move to stop her, remaining perfectly still.

"Who are you?" She demanded, noting the man seemed typical of the people she had seen in the town: muscular and large wearing a combination of fur and leather clothing.

"Bale Orken," the man replied neutrally, obviously concerned at her intent as his brown eyes flicked between her and the knife.

"We've been searching for you," Cara said as as she came around the other the man, Agiel in hand.

"Then it seems you are lucky that I saw those creatures attack and came to assist you," Bale said.

"I think your pet had more to do with that than you," Cara said as Kahlan withdrew the knife glancing at the creature in question. The wolf simply sat on its haunches watching them. Kahlan noted the strange eyes: one blue, one brown, and with a cunning intelligence looking back at her. The wolf seemed pleased.

"Pet?" Bale said, rising to his feet and dusting himself off. At his feet lay his bow, string inadvertently cut when Kahlan had attacked him.

Kahlan gestured to the wolf.

"That's not a pet," Bale said with some indignation. "That is Nokai, Pack Leader to the Lodi. And these creatures are but a mere snack for her kind."

"What are these things? They're not screelings or banelings," Cara noted, toeing the charred remains with her boot.

"The Keeper had nothing to do with these creatures," Bale said, "The old stories call them ghouls but they are not merely such worldly creatures a necromancer would raise. They are extensions of the Skinflayer, minions that carry out his whim and that of the Fleshweaver. That they are here does not bode well."

Kahlan's brow furrowed at his words. "Why?"

Bale looked Kahlan over carefully for a moment, before nodding towards the remains. "They know you are here, Mother Confessor. They know you will find the Skinflayer. Nokai said you would come to defeat the Skinflayer. He too must think this to be true if he sends out minions to hunt you."

"Then it's true," Rejn interrupted, hobbling over to them, bloodied and in obvious pain. "The old evil has returned?"

Bale nodded solemnly. "Indeed. No mere one at that." He looked directly at Kahlan as he spoke, eyes boring into her. "If what Nokai and the spirits tell me is true, only you, Kahlan Amnell, will be able to defeat the Skinflayer and prevent the destruction of everything."

"And how am I supposed to defeat this Skinflayer?"

"Your blade will pierce his heart."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"_Be true to your heart or the Fleshweaver will have your skin and the Keeper your soul."_

- Fulani proverb

"Amazing. And these have been in your possession all these years?" Zedd gestured to the small collection of books and scrolls carefully arranged on the table before them, the chest they had been taken out of sitting nearby.

"Well, no," Bale admitted reluctantly. "I and our shaman went in search of them after we learned of the danger from Huntsman Rannith."

Cara came through the open door, closing and bolting it behind her. "The guards are posted," she announced without preamble.

"I assure you that isn't necessary with Nokai here." The Daruman gestured to the wolf sitting by the blazing fire in the hearth. At the Mord-Sith's skeptical look, he smiled touching his nose. "She can sense the ghouls coming. She will know long before your sentries if the Skinflayer's minions are about."

"If that is so then nothing is wasted by having the guards ready, is there?" Cara fired back.

"Yes, that's fine. Thank you, Cara." Kahlan interrupted, tone agitated despite her calm appearance. She gestured towards the writings on the table. "What is this prophecy you spoke of. That I was to defeat the Skinflayer."

Bale quickly when for a slim book, flipping through the pages as he spoke. "The Prophecy doesn't specifically mention you. It was the sprits that named you. But it is clear that you are the one." After a few more pages and some muttering he laid the book down and pointed at the passage. The trio leaned in, Kahlan and Cara frowning.

"I don't recognize this language," Kahlan said.

"Nor I," Cara confirmed.

"I do. It's an older dialect sometimes used by the prophets of the First Era." Zedd said with interest pulling the book closer to better read it. "It's difficult to translate."

"It is. The shaman and I took nearly three weeks to translate that page alone," Bale agreed.

"Can you read it?" Kahlan asked.

"Yes, some," Zedd said nodded slowly frowning n concentration.

"_On the first dawn of the midnight sun,_

_The named bearer of the blade_

_Master of the weavers of flesh_

_With glimmering eyes upon his love,_

_The divided spirit shall be unbound with joy._

_In his forgiveness the White Mistress will see the truth: _

_Cleave the flesh to cleave the realms._

_A blade to the heart earns freedom from eternity's grasp_

_And the weeping of forgotten tears."_

"No, that's 'earn freedom from the Eternal's grasp'," Bale corrected, causing Zedd to reread the single line before nodding in agreement.

"No!" Kahlan snapped. "That has to be wrong."

"You must kill the Eternal," Bale pleaded.

"I won't…"

"Kahlan, isn't this why you pushed us to come here so hard? To save him, to save Richard." Zedd asked. "To end his suffering."

"Don't you see Zedd. It doesn't say I will defeat the Eternal, just the Skinflayer. Just- ," Kahlan turned away choking back a sob. "Just him."

Bale looked back and forth between the Mord-Sith and Wizard seeing their shared look of pain as they allowed Kahlan a moment. "I do not understand. You know who the Skinflayer is?"

"Yes," Kahlan's watery voice whispered. When it was obvious she would say no more, Cara sighed loudly nodding to Zedd. The old wizard went over and rested a hand on Kahlan's shoulder.

"Yes. The man this Fleshweaver of yours is using is important where we come from. Not only to my people, but to her as well," Cara said nodding towards Kahlan. She noted the wolf had trotted over to Kahlan and was gently nuzzling the Confessor's loose hand. After a moment, Kahlan finally rested her hand on the animal's head, body relaxing some as the wolf sat on her haunches in companionable silence.

Understanding came to Bale's face with a sorrowful look. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize this was…personal."

"I thought I was coming here to free him from dark magic," Kahlan said turning to face them again, face cold, emotionless. "Instead I find I will kill him."

"Kahlan," Zedd protested.

"It's all right, Zedd." She gave him a look. "Richard, my Richard would never want his life placed above others. How can I do anything less than what he would want? I owe him at least that much."

"My lady, perhaps I mistranslated the book. With the wizard's help, I'm certain we can find another way," Bale tried to reassure her.

"Perhaps," Kahlan agreed neutrally. "I will do what is necessary when the time comes."

Zedd gave her a quickly reassuring one armed hug, before getting a curious expression on his face. "Is there any mention of the Sword of Truth in the book?"

Bale shook his face inscrutable. "I'm not sure. I don't think so. Why?"

"It may be nothing," Zedd waved his concern off.

"We should leave as soon as possible for the Land of Eternal Night and Day," Bale said. "The time draws near for the dawn of the midnight sun and we have far to sail."

"We leave tomorrow then," Kahlan stated flatly. A command. Not a request.

Bale swallowed hard at the tone and nodded his assent. "As you wish, Mother Confessor. The wizard and I can go over the prophecy again. Perhaps he can find an interpretation I misunderstood."

A small, soft whine from the wolf caught their attention. Kahlan gently stroked the animal's head even as it seemed to stare at Bale. The man shifted uneasily before sighing loudly.

"Mother Confessor, there's one more thing."

He went to a larger chest on the farthest corner of the room, hidden in partial shadow from the firelight and lamps. "Nokai went to great length to acquire this, to prevent the Eternal getting hold of its power."

Zedd rose from the small table in curiosity as the Daruman returned with an object wrapped in furs and placed it on the table. Carefully unwrapping the outer furs and then the inner red silk Bale stepped back with a small smile at their shocked faces.

"The sword!" Kahlan gasped in surprise, gently brushing her fingers along the familiar scabbard and pommel.

"How?" Zedd asked.

Bale nodded toward Nokai who swished her tail in obvious pleased nature. "Nokai hunted the ones who stole the sword and brought it to me. She said you would come and I was to give it to you." He paused as he looked over the sword. "It is the Sword of Truth, isn't it? Even here in the Northlands we've heard stories of this blade. As a child I never imagined I would actually see it with my own eyes."

"But why give it to us. Here," Zedd wondered.

"I don't know," Bale admitted. "Neither does Nokai. All we know is the spirits say that it is necessary. That the one who bears the instrument of truth shall be victorious."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"_I am eternal. I am existence. That which was taken shall be returned when the betrayed spirit is healed and the flesh reborn."_

- Inscription on the tomb of First Era Necromancer Ferax.

Melantha cried out as the claws tore through her back, shredding skin from her shoulder, tearing at muscles, tendons and nerves. She froze as she felt the chill, sharp edges brush against her throat. The intent of the light pressure made clear. If she moved a mere fraction she would be dead. Worse she knew there was nothing she could do, for while she felt the sharp edges on her skin, she could not touch them, could not stop them, for they were the air itself manifest.

"M-master," she whispered, terrified, pleading. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it might explode in her chest.

"Did you think I would not know what you've done, Fleshweaver?" The voice hissed in her ear, cutting through her soul and mind with the power behind the words, making her want to flinch in pain even as she forced herself not to do so.

"I don't know…"

"Arrogant child," he growled her skin feeling stretched tight as he exuded his power further over her. "I know all that my minions do."

Melantha shook in fear as she realized what the Eternal spoke of. "I'm sorry, Master. Forgive me?"

"No."

"I had to. Nokai was present."

"Nokai?"

"An enemy. Nokai will turn the equal of this flesh against you. I had to stop the Lodi, I never meant to harm…"

The hiss from him cut her off, and she found herself suddenly free of the pain from his magic. She lay gasping on the ground, gently rubbing her neck, feeling her clothes soaking in the blood from the wounds on her back. Rising slowly she glanced warily at the figure in the grace, noting his glowing eyes as his angry look slowly transformed to a satisfied smile.

"Perhaps I was too quick to judge you, Fleshweaver," the Eternal noted. "But you will not interfere with this Nokai again."

"But she will turn her against your flesh."

He smiled gently. "That serves my purpose as equally well."

Melantha frowned, ignoring the pain in her back as she slowly rose to her feet. "I don't understand."

"Of course you don't." He smiled indulgently and waved his hand at her. "Nokai is a creature of my making."

Melantha was confused. "But you could not…you were not manifest."

"Oh it wasn't me. Not entirely." The Eternal seemed pleased. "You chose well with this flesh."

"Then _he_ controls Nokai? Your power?" Melantha asked in fear.

"No," the Eternal replied easily. "He has control over neither. He has no connection save the spark he touched Nokai with. That too serves my purpose."

He waved his hand at her before turning away. Instantly the pain was gone, as was the blood, and her clothes mended. She rubbed her hands experimentally over her shoulder feeling a wave of relief. When she turned to thank him, he was already laid out on the grace.

"Continue with the preparations. I will return shortly."

With that the glow in his eyes died out and the man's head lolled to the side listlessly, brown eyes blank. She quickly went over to check on him, brushing the ever increasing length of hair from his forehead, receiving no reaction from the catatonic man. Anger flared in her as she leaned down, knowing what needed to be done. And soon.

"As soon as I defeat my people's enemies, I will release you from the Eternal and send the monster back from whence he came. You must resist until then, Richard Rahl."

She waited to see if the man would respond. There was none, but she knew better than to think that her message had not reached him.

He came awake, a scream tearing from his throat even as he curled into a ball of pain. Panting, he pushed the cruel, terrifying monsters of his nightmare, the scent of fear from the people they hunted, the bone shattering pain as the furred animal, a wolf he thought, had snapped his neck. After a time all that existed was the soft gurgling of the nearby waterfall and pond and the light rustling of tree limbs in the breeze.

With the pain gone he pushed himself to his knees with head still bent down and eyes close in lingering fear. He was afraid that if he looked around him, his paradise would disappear once more into that terrible nightmare. He heard a rustling sound to his left, not from the trees but the ground.

The rustling sound increased, finally earning his curiosity and overcoming his fear enough to open his eyes and look. Seeing nothing he rose to his feet, crouching low as he snuck over behind a tree near where the sound had come. A few step away, he froze as a wolf came around the tree- large and as white as the one he had seen in his dreams.

The wolf regarded him with strange odd colored eyes: one brown, the other blue.

"The White Mistress needs you, Richard."

The whispered words seem to come from the woods themselves, surrounding him, a thousand voices, yet he somehow knew it was the wolf speaking to him.

"I don't understand."

"She needs you."

With that the wolf turned and disappeared, dissolving away as if mist before his eyes.

"Hello, Richard."

Richard spun around so quickly he nearly lost his balance at the soft feminine voice. As it was he ended up bumping into the nearby tree with his back at the site of the woman before him. She wore a simple white robe with long dark tresses hanging from her head. She had blue eyes with an oddly devoid expression on her smiling face. A distant part of his mind thought he should know this face, but he pushed the thought away.

"Are you all right, Richard? You seem upset." The woman asked with seeming concern, though her aloof demeanor dispelled what warmth might have been there.

"I'm fine." Richard frowned at her white dress, considering the wolf's message. "Are you the White Mistress?"

Puzzlement marred her placid features. "White Mistress?"

"Nothing, it's nothing." Richard replied, shaking off his concern and feeling foolish. The wolf must have just been another of the phantoms his mind created here. Like the old man in robes and the blond woman in red and a dozen other phantoms that had visited this place. He didn't know why it happened, but it did. None of those previous incursions had been as odd as a talking wolf.

"Do you find it pleasing?"

The question brought Richard out of his thoughts on the wolf and its message. "What?"

"This body." The woman smiled, gesturing to herself. "Do you find it pleasing?"

"I…it's, I mean you're beautiful." He stammered out his honest opinion.

Her smile grew at his words. "I thought you might like it."

"Eternal?"

She nodded once. "Have you thought of my words, considered them?"

He gestured toward the lake, the Eternal falling in step beside him as he led her to a dry patch on which to sit. The entire time she seemed to take in the land with wonder before they finally sat.

"You've added some creatures to your forest," she noted pointing to the fish barely visible in the pond's depths.

"Fish," he said. "It seemed right."

The Eternal nodded, studying the fish for a moment before turning to him with a slight smile, a smile that brought an odd sense of familiarity. "Have you considered my words?"

Richard nodded. "It was wrong of the Creator and Keeper to steal what was yours. But why punish us for that?"

The Eternal actually looked wounded by his words. "But I don't wish to punish you, Richard. I wish to help you all, correct their error. Take away the pain and suffering their arrogance has inflicted on you."

"But you said you wanted to destroy everything," he replied.

"Destroy what it flawed, and rebuilt it the way it should be," she corrected gently.

He stared at the pond for a moment with furrowed brow. Eventually he shook his head. "I won't do that. I can't. I don't have that right."

The Eternal smiled slyly. "But you already have."

"What?"

She gestured around them to the forest and pond. "You've already done what I wish to do. Did you not create this place to replace that which is hurtful, painful, destructive, vile."

"I…" Richard stopped, realizing he had no real answer for the Eternal.

The Eternal reached out and gently touched his arm, leaning with a conspiratorial look. "You already know in your heart that I am correct. That what I need you to do is necessary. You know the evil and taint of your world to your very soul. You know I am right."

Something about the Eternal's touch and look suddenly sparked anger in him. He jerked his arm from the touch. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The Eternal didn't seem disturbed in the least by his withdrawal and sudden stubbornness. "You hide here from the pain of others. There's no shame in that. I can see it in your soul how you've suffered. But more importantly I see how you desire to be with those you care for, that which is pure and should be saved."

Richard looked away from the Eternal's blue eyes, feeling confused by the mix of anger and affection he felt at the gaze. "I don't…I don't remember what you're talking about."

"But of course you do. How else do you think I could take this form?"

He turned back to the Eternal at those words, a memory niggling at the edge of his mind of another encounter in woods not to different from this place. Of a mysterious woman in white.

"Who is she?" Richard finally asked in curiosity.

"It doesn't matter, Richard. Beauty is often a cover for that which is corrupt." The Eternal replied voice suddenly devoid of the lilting quality that had held his attention so.

"Who is she?" He demanded, anger consuming his patience.

"Why, Richard, isn't it obvious? She is the one who betrayed your heart. She killed you."

In an instant he was back in that dark place, screaming as he felt his body crumble under the power of the magic. Flesh rending, bones cracking, blood boiling. He screamed into the darkness, accompanied only by a hauntingly delighted laughter.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

"_To know the Eternal is to unlearn all that you know. Forget the mores of the world, the morality, and the rules. One must imagine the unimaginable, dismiss reality. But most of all, one must be willing to violate all the Wizard's Rules, for they hold no meaning here. Only the open mind, those gifted with a unique perception of existence, forethought of the unimaginable, can access the whispered realm of the Eternal._

_Only those who can conceive the boundless infinity of the place between life and death should proceed. If you are not such a mind, only madness awaits you in these pages. "_

- Prologue, _Doxie's Inviolable Exigency_.

"You said you've finished translating the prophecy in the book?" Kahlan asked as she took a seat beside the old wizard and as near to the fire as she dared.

She rubbed her hands vigorously from the frigid evening air before pulling the heavy cloak she wore tighter around her. Kahlan shook her head as Laire, the sole member of Lord Rahl's Minders to join their expedition, offering her the heavy blanket she had draped over herself knowing the woman was as cold as she. As they had traveled further north the weather had been progressively colder despite the approaching summer. The nights bitterly so. Far in the distance could be seen the glowing fires of the Skaaldren, the first of the Fulani huntlands they would cross and their intended goal for tomorrow.

Around the fire, the others were similarly bundled trying to keep warm. Only Bale Orken and Cara seemed unaffected. Cara, content in her heavy furs, gave her a brief nod from the other side of Zedd. Bale in his heavy wool and fur clothes stirred the pot with the stew for their dinner. Beside him the two D'Haran soldiers who'd volunteered to accompany them, Danis and Kohr, silently sharpened their assorted weapons occasionally glancing into the darkness where two of Bale's crew were currently patrolling.

"Yes," Zedd agreed distractedly.

Cara harrumphed. "Well, let's hear it then. You said it was important and might affect our mission."

Zedd pursed his lips a moment before reading the prophecy quietly.

"_That which is Eternal can not be slain _

_But for the binding of flesh and blood regained._

_With the spirit hovering between the worlds,_

_Only then can the one of true heart prevail. _

_Though denied in the blood, it is born in the bone, _

_Bound by two worlds astride the third, the avatar will be reborn. _

_Through sacrifice, the barren heart beats at the love of the eternal betrayal_

_But it is the divided spirit that will decide who prevails."_

He shook his head slightly as he looked up at the others. "Keep in mind this is merely a translation of the original prophecy, and thus may not be accurate. My skill in this particular form is poor."

"So what does it mean?" Cara asked impatiently.

"Some practitioners of the necromancy required to bring forth a Skinflayer such as the one we seek believe it refers to the inevitable end of all existence, all life, at the hands of this so called Eternal. It's but one reason the practice of their loathsome magic was banned and its practitioners exterminated. Their very power could destroy everything," Zedd explained. Bale's stirring of the pot stopped and Nokai's head rose as if the wolf understood exactly what the wizard had said. Seeing their concern Zedd hurriedly continued on.

"I believe this prophecy indicates that the Eternal will fail precisely because no such spirit will ever exist nor can exist. That said I fear that while we would be victorious, the loss of life will be terrible and may twist the lands." Zedd shook his head. "This prophecy should be impossible anyway due to the special nature of the spirit required."

"What special nature?" Kahlan asked.

"The spirits used to create a Skinflayer must be special in nature. It has to be of a person of immense magical ability, far stronger than any wizard I've ever heard of. But more than that, one of exceptional mind, who is creative in thought, and capable of looking beyond normal perceptions," Zedd replied.

Cara frowned. "Is that not often the description of wizards and sorcerers? Or Seekers?"

"Yes, but it is even more than that. The spirit has to be one that could conceive the inconceivable, imagine the impossible, and accept a view of the world beyond our comprehension." Zedd explained, looking frustrated at his own account. "They have to be one of not just extraordinary vision but of perception."

"Then why Richard? He never spoke of such things." Kahlan huffed in a rare show of frustration.

Zedd smiled weakly. "Actually, he did. Just once, back when I was teaching him some of the lower level conjuring he could use. That one time would be enough. It was a brilliant thought I and the other wizards dismissed as the fanciful notions of young, inexperience dilettante who'd read one too many of the books at the Keep without the proper training to understand them."

"What was it Richard said to make him different?" Kahlan asked.

Zedd snapped his fingers. "Bags! I've been a fool. Never mind." He waved his hands at their puzzled expressions.

"Richard asked me once about the Creator and the Keeper. Everyone knows their story and how our world was formed but he wanted to know things I and the others never even considered. He wanted to know what created the Creator and the Keeper. What came before them."

"Nothing came before," Kahlan stated with a furrowed brow.

"Ah, but that's just it. Richard wanted the answer to a question never considered: what created the Creator and Keeper. What made them." Zedd answered eagerly. "Such a notion ties the mind in knots if you think too long on it. I listened to his theories for hours but inevitably dismissed them. He seemed a bit disappointed at my rejection but never made mention of them again. Now I wish I had listened or at least had put his thoughts in writing for further consideration. I'm certain they would help us now."

"So for this prophecy to come true the spirit called forth has to be able to accept the possibility of something predating the Creator and Keeper to become the Avatar, and that will determine whether this so called Eternal wins?" Cara asked in clarification.

Earning a nod in response from the wizard she crossed her arms with a look as if saying she thought she was viewing the most ignorant person alive. "So why does everyone assume the Avatar will give victory to the Eternal?"

"What?" Zedd asked.

Cara waved her hand vaguely northward. "What if the Eternal doesn't decide our fate, but the Avatar?"

Understanding dawned and Zedd smiled to himself, pleased as if Cara were a prized pupil. "Then Richard will decide our fate, not this blasted Eternal. There may yet be hope."

"But what if," Kahlan interrupted pausing as she swallowed at the terrible thought that entered her mind. "What if he decides in favor of the Eternal."

"Never!" Zedd shook his head.

"But what if Richard has fallen under the influence of the Eternal!" Kahlan shouted him down, bringing complete stillness to the campsite as all present paused to consider her words. The D'Haran soldiers, Zedd, and Laire looked offended at the merely thought, while Cara and the others regarded her with consideration.

"Then we had better be sure to stop the spell from being complete," Cara eventually replied, every bit the Mord-Sith. "If Lord Rahl has been corrupted, then we would be doing his spirit a great service in freeing him."

Earning an agreeing nod from Kahlan, Cara flicked her eyes to Zedd once more. "Does the book indicate how long we have?"

Zedd quickly flipped though the pages muttering. After a time he glanced up at the stars before nodding. "We have until the first dawn of the midnight sun. Ten days from now. We must convince Richard to stop the Eternal or barring that…kill him."

"When I drive my blade into his heart," Kahlan said quietly.

"It may not come to that," Zedd reminded her. "Doxie's Inviolable Exigency and the Skinflayer Prophecy are very clear that the Eternal is not fully manifested until the spirit is no longer conflicted."

"But not conflicted about what?" Kahlan asked.

Cara nodded slowly. "The Mother Confessor has a point. Perhaps if we knew what this conflict of spirit is?"

"I'm afraid none of the books seems to know what that phrase means exactly," Zedd admitted.

"Perhaps you should focus instead on killing the Fleshweaver," Bale Orken put in. "If Melantha is dead and the Skinflayer then slain, there is no fear then that the Eternal can enter this realm."

"Perhaps," Zedd conceded. "But we don't know how much influence this Eternal has. How powerful it is. Some accounts indicate that even if we did as you say, if it has become strong enough, we may not be able to destroy the host body."

"I'd be more worried about the spirit of this Richard you speak of," Bale said, earning a glare from the D'Harans. The Daruman raised his free hand to forestall any protests to his words. "The books are very clear about what happens when the diseased spirits are left to fend for themselves when ignorant Fleshweavers abandoned them. The destruction and suffering they wrought was horrifying."

"If your Lord Rahl is as powerful a wizard as you seem to think, he could possibly be as great a threat as the Eternal itself. While he would not be capable of destroying existence itself, he could make it a miserable one for all who live it."

"A Skinflayer is but flesh, regardless of the power," Zedd argued.

"You are First Wizard of your lands. Could you defeat him if need be?" Bale challenged.

"Possibly," Zedd conceded. His eyes settled on Cara. The look in the Mord-Sith's eyes indicating she expected the words he was about to speak. "I don't know how much Richard learned after he departed Aydindril."

"He learned everything the greatest sorcerers and wizards of D'Hara could teach him. My sisters and I taught him the magic of the Agiels as well," Cara promptly replied with obvious pride. She did shift uneasily at the surprised and shocked looks Kahlan and Zedd gave her.

"Why would he need to know the magic of the Agiels?" Kahlan asked her tone as cold as the icy night air.

Cara raised her head locking her gaze with the Mother Confessor, face set determinedly. She knew the Mother Confessor and Wizard would not understand the bond between the House of Rahl and the Mord-Sith and so took their ill concealed disgust calmly. "Because Lord Rahl came to understand the necessity of the Mord-Sith and what we do."

Kahlan opened her mouth as to protest, Cara leaning forward suddenly. "Don't mistake necessity for desire. Richard did what was required for the survival of my sisters, nothing more."

"But why would Richard allow such brutality to continue?" Zedd asked, no longer disgusted, but obviously pained none the less.

"Do not interfere with the affairs of D'Hara nor dare judge Lord Richard," The Minder Laire spoke for the first time, steel underlying the soft tone of her words. "If not for him, your precious Midlands would be but a memory."

"Laire," Cara's warning tone silenced the Minder from further comment.

Zedd coughed into the tense silence. "I apologize, I meant no offense. My surprise simply got the better of my tongue."

"And mine, Wizard Zorander," Laire conceded with a conciliatory bow of the head.

"Did he learn anything else?" Zedd asked Cara, readily diverting the discussion back to his main concern.

"He also started studying some of the books in Lord Rahl's private library. Books of magic." Cara admitted, her defiant look settling into concern.

"What sort of magic?" Zedd asked suspiciously.

"I don't know. But soon after we began traveling to Evergreen Castle via magic. And it is in the library he discovered the secrets of the Excoriating Web." Cara admitted earning a disgruntled look from Zedd.

"Then it is safe to say, First Wizard Zorander may not be able to defeat him?" Bale asked.

"Perhaps not," Zedd conceded tiredly.

"Then we better think of something else."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

"_The Drakonaar were a mysterious breed of now extinct dragon said to have once resided in the extreme reaches of the northlands, in the most forbidden of lands beyond the Firelochs and the Barren Wastes before they disappeared thousands of years ago with only the people known as the Hekana said to know what happened to them."_

-Chapter 33: Extinct Large Breed Reptiles, _Feppendreau's Guide to the Mysterious_.

"Hail Orken of the Daruman!"

The others silently watched Bale Orken rush out to greet the trio of very large men in leather, furs, and heavy mail stopping only a few paces away from them. Their trio had intercepted their party not far from the granite outcropping Bale had been leading them towards through the field of sparse bushes.

It had been five days of hard travel through the Skaaldren and its geysers and lava flows, their impressive beauty and danger lost on them in their rush to reach a place Bale Orken had called the Skaaldfjord Hearth where they could gain assistance. They had seen no one in their short journey across the ice sea or in their march through the safe trails and passages of the Skaaldren. Until today.

The face of the one who had shouted was obscured by the smooth gleaming silver helmet's face plate covering his eyes, but a swirl of dark blue woad could just be made out on his face. He wore mail over a collection of furs, skins, and wool dyed similarly to those worn by Rannith and a sword and knife at his hip. The largest of the trio to the man's right bore a heavy crossbow in his arms and what appeared to be a broadax slung over his shoulder with a quiver of bolts over the other, wore a strange metal and hide coif and hauberk of what appeared to be bronze colored scales, the blue woad on his face a mere slash of color across his eyes. The final man, shortest of the three, wore a simple tunic of mail over his unadorned deerskin tunic and wool pants. Unlike the other two, he bore only a long knife on his ornately tooled belt and a number of pouches and had a strange geometric symbol on his cheek.

"Hail Anand of the Fulani Skaaldren," Bale greeted them. "My companions and I were on our way to your people to ask for their permission to cross your huntlands."

"Seer Droggith told me of your coming," the man, Anand replied gesturing to the shortest of their party. "I had to see for myself if what he and our huntsman said were true. It seems you were right Ludig," he said toward the largest of their trio.

"It be true as I said," Ludig spoke, deep voice carrying easily to all present, his face blank despite the wonder in his voice. He lowered his crossbow to show he no longer considered them a threat but kept the weapon at the ready. "A Lodi walks with them."

Anand peered at the people over Orken's shoulder, brown eyes fixing briefly on the wolf before staring for a long time at Kahlan. Bale quickly gestured for the Fulani to come closer. "Please, come. This is the Mother Confessor, Kahlan Amnell. And th…"

His words trailed off in surprise as the trio bowed in perfect unison, Anand speaking for them. "Long life to the White Mistress."

"And long life to the Fulani Skaaldren," Kahlan replied, this time without the hesitation that occurred when she met Rannith Skaald.

The trio smiled in obvious pleasure. Anand scanned the small group before turning his attention to Kahlan as she introduced the others, each earning varying degrees of recognition from him. When done he thumped himself on the chest and gestured to his companions. "Tracker Ludig, my personal guard and First Huntsman. And Seer Droggith. I am Lord Anand of the Skaaldren, Protector of the Skaaldfjord. You are welcome to our hearthstones."

"Thank you, Lord Skaaldren," Kahlan replied. "We come on urgent business."

"Yes, the Fleshweaver, Melantha."

"Then you know of what she is doing?"

Anand scowled. "Yes, when Rannith returned from the conclave he told us of what happened. I admit my shame in not believing him and sending him away."

"And now you believe his warnings?"

"I believed him when I saw the Lodi follow him into the Skaaldren. We've been preparing for his return ever since." Anand again looked over their group as if expecting someone.

Kahlan shared a knowing look with Zedd. "I'm afraid Rannith died. He was killed when creatures attacked us in Aydindril."

"Barren wolves?" Anand asked.

At her nod, he nodded. "For having found the White Mistress and brought her to us and battled the barren wolves he will be remembered as a champion of our people, his wife and children cared for as honored members of the Skaald."

"Anand," a warning tone was easily recognized in Ludig's voice earning a quick nod from the man.

"Come. Please we must hurry back to Skaaldfjord Hearth. There are more than barren wolves about that threaten us. We will speak further there," Anand said. He and his two companions turning and trotting off towards the looming granite mountain without a glance back.

Bale wordlessly gestured for them to follow, loping after the trio.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

"_The Shadow People are a mysterious race who historically tried to live peacefully but were often cruelly enslaved by sorcerers as weapons of warfare. It is thought the last Shadow People were destroyed by the House of Rahl to create the dreaded Whisperer weapons but the secretive nature of these people and their abhorrence for flesh and blood beings may make proving their extinction impossible."_

-Chapter 35 Spirit Folk, _Feppendreau's Guide to the Mysterious_

The sounds of battle drew it and its companion's attention: the clash of steel on steel, the cries of pain and rage. Invisible to their prey they approached, pleased to have found their enemies once more: the furs barely covering deeply tanned flesh of the Laguia making them stand out against those they battled. They noted the three Fulani among the battle seemingly fighting alongside another group of people clad mostly in armor of maroon and black. Their orders were simply: hunt the Laguia. The rest were irrelevant.

Sweeping forth over the field, they reached their first target, a Laguia wearing nothing but a deerskin cloak, boots, and loincloth chanting an incantation. There barest of whisper soft touches and the man screeched and fell to the ground writhing for only a moment before lying still as they ripped his spirit from his body. They smiled in malicious pleasure at ridding the land of another foul creature. The Master would be pleased.

They slipped into the battle. Deftly avoiding the non-Laguia they touched their chosen foes stealing away their life force while leaving their bodies writhing in agony. Within moments dozens had fallen, those still alive panicking while the Fulani and the strangers slowed their attack in confusion.

A group of twenty Laguia broke from battle, fleeing. One of the silent hunters appeared before them, an apparition of smoke and mist, and let lose a short shriek. The men cried out, grasping their heads as blood flowed from their ears, eyes, and nose. They shook in convulsions as they dropped to the icy ground to cough up blood, with each breath drowning in their own blood.

Pain suddenly washed over the hunters. The cries of their brethren were cut short as they died, forever lost to the mists.

Enraged the rest turned to find one of the Fulani bearing no weapons and a stranger with white wavy hair calling forth their magic against them. Enraged they attack, surprised at encountering an invisible barrier. Their shrieks proved ineffective, reflected somehow back on them, as they realized too late the trap the magic wielders had spring on them. Howls of pain and rage echoed through the air until only one of them remained. In impotent fury it lets loose its shriek once more and re-entered the mists to warn the Master of the betrayal.

"I think they're gone," Droggith observed tiredly as he placed his hand over the red nine pointed star emblazoned on his chest. "Creator, we thank you for preserving us this day."

Zedd simply blew out is breathe in relief as he turned to see how the others fared. None of the D'Harans had been injured, still encircling the Mother Confessor, their Lady Rahl, with determined faces. He quickly went over to them, stopping short when one of the soldiers brought his sword up to stop him.

"Let him through. Would you stab the wizard who just saved us from those creatures?" Cara barked, smacking the soldier on the back of helmet none too gently. With a sheepish look he lowered his weapon and stepped aside before once more eyeing the area around them with guarded eyes.

"Are you all right?" Zedd asked.

"We're fine," Cara replied. "None of these animals or those creatures came even close to harming us."

"Good," Zedd looked beyond their perimeter noting the soldier let Bale Orken and the three Fulani enter uncontested, none the worse for the wear. All looked extraordinarily pleased despite the blood on their clothing and seemed unconcerned over the remaining Laguia soldiers who huddled in fearful clumps nearby, the fight gone out of them.

"What were those creatures?" Kahlan asked eyeing the sky around them warily.

Zedd looked hesitant to answer as he slipped his hands back into his over cloak to protect them from the chill wind. "I think they might once have been Shadow People."

"Shadow People?"

"Once have been…?" Cara inquired picking upon on his concern.

"They looked like Shadow People," Zedd explained. "But they seemed different somehow. Shadow People tend to avoid other races, they have no love for them given they've often been enslaved and used as living weapons. For them to attack without any apparent reason is unheard off."

"What makes these ones different?"

"Aside from the fact that we are still alive after hearing their screams?" Zedd glanced at Droggith earning a slight nod from the shorter Seer. "Our magic shouldn't have harmed them, let alone killed them."

"I don't understand."

"All the wizard and I did was erect an insensate web and a reflective barrier. Neither should be capable of harming the Shadow People, merely nullify their touch and screams for those within the spells," Droggith explained, gesturing towards the battlefield. "Instead it killed the Shadow People that came too close to the field."

"That should not have happened. Somehow the spells inverted the Shadow People's attack, amplified them and killed them," Zedd added. "That shouldn't be possible."

"Their magic has been corrupted. Like the barren wolves," Droggith stated with certainty.

"So you think the Eternal summoned these creatures?" Kahlan asked.

"That makes sense," Anand interjected. "These 'shadow people' only attacked the Laguia until the protection spells were cast."

Kahlan looked horrified at the news. "But to corrupt the Shadow People's magic like the barren wolves would mean…"

"They were dead." Zedd finished with chilling finality. "Somehow the Eternal resurrected the Shadow People's dead from the ether to which they disperse."

Anand waved his hand unconcerned and turned a baleful eye onto the nearest band of cowering Laguia. "We should finish these animals off and return to the Hearth."

One of the Laguia, an older man heavily scarred on the left side of his face and body stood up at that, hands clenching his short sword tightly. He wore nothing but deerskin trousers and heavy boots, face twisted with defiant rage. "You are the animals! You sent the demons to kill our children."

At his words, the other Laguia became emboldened, shaking their weapons and shouting at them.

Ludig raised his crossbow preparing to fire when Kahlan laid her hand on his arm, instantly freezing him in place. The large man glanced out of the corner of eye at her questioningly. "Mother Confessor?"

"I wish to hear what this one says," Kahlan announced.

"We have no use for a witch!" snarled the scarred man, his words echoed by a roar from his people.

"Show respect to the White Mistress!" Anand snapped back, sword scraping free of its scabbard.

The Laguia almost instantly silenced. The scarred man watched Kahlan as she left the circle of D'Haran soldiers, Cara at her side. Several of the Laguia could be seen to whisper to one another with fearful look in their eyes. The scarred man grunted loudly at the others, instantly bringing silence as he took several steps forward. "You are the Mother Confessor?"

"I am," Kahlan asked.

"Forgive us, Mother Confessor." The man bowed deeply as the other Laguia dropped to their knees with heads bowed. "I am Sejan of Panar. We are the Hekana. We did not realize you had returned. It has been many winters."

He shot Fulani a venomous look. "Nor did we expect you to be traveling with murderers and butchers of children."

Kahlan raised her hand forestalling any recrimination from Anand. Satisfied the Fulani would remain silent she focused on the Hekana leader. She quickly formally introduced herself, Zedd, and Cara before addressing her primary concern.

"You say it is the Fulani that attacked you first. The Fulani claim it is you who attacked them. Both cannot be true. Tell me how the Hekana came to make war on the Fulani?" She asked.

Sejan nodded seemingly satisfied with her words but still gave dark looks to the Fulani. "Three summers ago, our children started to fall ill. We thought it nothing more than an especially bad sickness as sometimes occurs. But then when the fishing season came many of our ships would leave but never return. One day a ship did return. All but two of the fisherman had been slaughtered and they told us of their enemy. That enemy wore the markings of the Fulani Pyraad Clan. We sent our wise men to speak with the Pyraad but they too were killed by strange creatures: terrible monsters that resembled wolves. The Fulani Pyraad claimed to know nothing of our woes, yet the survivors recognized two of those who had attacked them on the ships. They would not turn them over to us to face justice."

"Still, we thought perhaps this was simply a misunderstanding and it seemed so as the Pyraad elders offered to trade the Hekana as much food as needed to last us the winter. But it was merely to trick us into revealing our holy places, our sacred bonds!" Sejan snarled as he started lunging towards the Fulani.

He restrained himself as Cara brought up her Agiel in warning. Visibly calming himself he took a deep breath.

"When nights are eternal even in the day, the Pyraad attacked our most sacred of lands, our most sacred duty. They attacked the Drakonaar! They destroyed all the eggs waiting to be hatched and a number of the younger drakons, who had yet to fly."

"Drakonaar?" Kahlan asked, Zedd stepping forward.

"An exceedingly rare breed of dragons," Zedd explained. "It was though they had become extinct."

Sejan shook his head. "We protect the Drakonaar in winter, and the drakon protect us when the need is great. The Drakon followed the murderers back to the Pyraad Hearthstones and saw the witches casting their curses upon our people."

"Our shamans called forth the Great Drakons from the mountains for judgment. We had to strike to protect our people from the Fulani! The Great Drakons said we had to kill all the Fulani to avenge the spirits of those lost and we had to do it as true Hekana, without magic. They said that if we did so they would bring the great mammoths so that we could conquer the land while the drakons would conquer the sky."

Sejan looked at one of the fallen Hekana nearby blood congealing around his eyes, nose, and mouth. Defeat slouched Sejan's shoulders. "How can we defeat animals that bring forth such creatures like those phantoms? Flesh cannot fight phantoms."

"Those weren't phantoms. And they were not conjured by the Fulani," Kahlan said.

"Then who?"

"I don't know who called the demons you spoke off, but what you saw here was the work of a Fleshweaver," Zedd answered.

Sejan and the Hekana visibly flinched, making warding gestures. "A Fleshweaver lives?"

"Yes, it's why we've come," Kahlan replied, relieved the Hekana believed them. She doubted they would have believed if the Fulani had told them about the Fleshweaver.

Sejan scowled. "They are vile creatures. Perhaps it is responsible for the war if it corrupted the Fulani."

"We did not attack!" Anand protested.

"Silence!"

Both men fell silent at Kahlan sharp command.

"Sejan, I must ask something of you and the Hekana. It will not be easy, but it must be done," Kahlan continued.

Sejan bowed his head subserviently. "If I am able, I will do as you say, Mother Confessor."

"Do you agree the Fleshweaver is a greater threat than the Fulani?"

"Yes, but…"

"Then go to you elders and the Drakons. Tell them of what you've learned here. Ask them to stop the fighting until we've dealt with the Fleshweaver," Kahlan commanded.

"They will not stop so long as the Fulani attack us," Sejan said skeptically. The look in his eyes made it clear that the Hekana would not stop fighting the Fulani even at the command of the Mother Confessor.

Anand stepped forward. "We fight because we defend ourselves." Looking at Kahlan he nodded once at her unasked question. "But we will stop fighting if the Hekana stop. The Fleshweaver shall destroy us all if we do not."

"And when the Fleshweaver is gone?" Sejan asked suspiciously.

Kahlan stepped between the two men, addressing Sejan. "If your leaders find it acceptable, I will hear testimony over what started the war and judge accordingly."

The Hekana leader looked genuinely surprised at her offer. "You would do this?"

"Of course," Kahlan replied.

"The elders may listen then. Perhaps even the Drakon." Sejan said, a hint of hope on his weary features.

Anand drew his _scramseax_ offering the pommel to Sejan. "Take this as a sign that the Fulani Skaaldren agree to the truce and arbitration with the Mother Confessor. Show it to other Fulani clans, they will believe you so long as the attacks stop."

Sejan slowly accepted the weapon, nodding. "We go now. Defeat the Fleshweaver and peace may be possible. If we learn you speak falsely, there will be war."

With that the remaining Hekana quickly gathered their weapons and marched off eastward into the icy wastes.

"What about their dead?" Cara asked curiously as she toed the body of a fallen Hekana.

"The Laguia never attend to the dead," Anand replied. "They believe the bodies should remain as a reminder to the cost of war."

Anand gestured for them to follow him. "Come, we must hurry to the Hearth so we may deal with the Fleshweaver and the Laguia as need be."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

"_A curious thing- life. So much better savored in death." _

– First Era Necromancer Ferax

Melantha nervously approached the raised dais, her loose robe flowing behind her. The man standing within the boundaries of the grace there stared into a large simple ceramic bowl bearing no decorations. She knew he would be using the water therein to watch his minions carry out her directions and his will. The Eternal had explained his reasons for the bowl shortly after she had raised him. He could easily enter the minds of his creatures, but doing so was taxing allowing the original spirit to take hold of the flesh. As he approached final manifestation he preferred to remain in control of his host body more often.

He was wrapped in a heavy blue wool robe she had prepared for him. It was cinched closed by a simple strip of black silk. Underneath she knew he wore knee length baggy wool trousers of a dark brown color and nothing else. The simple deerskin boots she had offered had been tossed aside with contempt. She noted his face had still yet to grow a beard despite his shoulder length hair hanging in shaggy waves from his head. A quirk of the magic used to regenerate the flesh, she supposed. Despite her nervousness, or perhaps because of the reason for it, she was relieved to see that he seemed pleased by whatever he was seeing in the bowl as the magic in his eyes swirled and twisted.

He turned to her and smiled broadly. For a moment she admired the handsome face before reminding herself of what she was looking at. The Eternal was getting better everyday at mastering the flesh's movements, actions, and speech patterns. So good in fact that were it not for the tell tale ever-present changing magic in the eyes she would be hard pressed to know who she spoke with: the original spirit the body belonged to or the Eternal.

"She comes, Melantha." He grinned, looking incongruously like a little boy.

Melantha nearly stumbled as she lurched to a halt at the Eternal's words, confused that he was not already raging at her over what happened.

"You know then, my Lord?" She asked meekly. "I assure you I didn't know about the attack until it was too late."

"The attack on the Fulani?" He snorted dismissively. "Irrelevant."

"But she could have been harmed," Melantha pointed out cautiously.

"Perhaps," he conceded, giving her a brief glance of warning. "But not by your order."

"Of course not," she readily agreed, relieved to see his smile return once more.

He chuckled to himself. "Soon all will be in place." He turned to face her, quickly stripping away the robe he wore, letting it pool at his feet. "We must prepare for the final ceremony. And bring me the instrument of truth," he demanded.

"Of course but…"

"What?" He snapped, causing her to flinch as she felt his magic lash her, a small cut forming on her hand.

"The Laguia and the Fulani huntsmen have joined together to defeat us. Defeat you, I wa…" Melantha choked as she felt the invisible tendrils of magic wrapped around her neck, squeezing tightly.

"Your people turn against me?" He snarled. "After all I've done."

"Please!" Melantha gasped as she felt his magic release at her hoarse plead.

Rubbing her neck she rose to her feet, anger at the words of betrayal from the elders fueling her. She had sacrificed so much to save her people, only to have them betray her. She saw now the fool she had been to think her people were worth saving. That any of the corrupt world deserved saving. The Eternal was correct in saying the world, all existence itself, needed to be purged.

"Grant me an army, and I will destroy them all, Master."

"Even your own people, Melantha?" The Eternal's knowing smile was now mocking and cruel. "Is that not the true reason you brought me here? To protect them from your enemies and once I had done so you planned to banish me once more."

She raised her head, unafraid anymore to hide her secrets from the Eternal. The Eternal had never lied to her. In fact, he trusted her, guided her, and awakened her to the true vileness of the world. "I was a misguided fool. I thought they were pure, uncorrupted. You've raised the veil of deceit from my eyes, Master. Let me now do your will and destroy all that oppose you. Let me purge the world of its corruption."

"Then come." He gestured for her to approach. "Accept my mark."

Melantha swallowed in trepidation, but then remembered the scorn of the elders and found it lacking against the trust the Eternal had shared in her. She hurried toward him stopping at the edge of grace. He smiled at her hesitation as he gestured for her to join him in the grace that pulsed beneath him.

"Come, be not afraid. No true servant of mine can be harmed by the power of the grace," he said holding out a hand, the one missing a finger, to her.

Without hesitation she stepped into the grace surprised at the euphoria that swept over her. Her breath was taken away in a wash of pleasure. She felt strong arms encircle her, support her as her knees buckled, holding her close. She was surprised at how warm his flesh felt as her hand rested on his sweat slick skin. After recovering herself she looked at him and found herself smiling at his own amused expression.

"Master," she whispered further words cut off as he suddenly kissed her deeply, tongue demanding entrance against her lips. Awash in desire she readily granted him access, moaning. She inhaled sharply and tried to pull back as he viciously bit her lower lip, but his hands held her head in place. The taste of blood was on her tongue as he suckled the wound briefly before pulling back.

She panted in nervous excitement as she saw him lick his stained lips, one hand releasing her neck as she felt him settle the nail of his thumb of her forehead. Without comment she winced as she felt the nail bite into her flesh painfully drawing blood, but remained silent as he continued to mark her forehead. Only the slight sting in her eyes revealed the pain that emanated from his cuts, each one adding to the feeling of liquid fire burning in her veins.

Finished he wiped the trickle of blood from her forehead and nose, painting patterns on her cheeks before offering his hand to her.

"Feast upon me and drink what is yours," he commanded as he pressed his hand against her lips.

She bit down as hard as she could; until she could taste the blood fill her mouth run down her chin. She swallowed once pulling back her head and shrieking as she felt power slide into her, overwhelm her senses. All she could feel was the energy surging through her, her heart pounding so hard she was sure it would burst through her chest, breath searing her lungs and her blood boiling.

Before she knew it, the world came back to her. The Eternal now stood behind her; one hand steadying her at the waist as another gently rubbed her spine, between the shoulder blades.

"Raise my servants," he whispered into her ear causing her to shiver at the sensation.

"I don't know how," she replied shakily, breathing still somewhat erratic.

"Feel it. I have given you the power," he insisted softly. "You are my High Priestess, Melantha. Show me you are worthy."

Melantha closed her eyes, aware he pulled away from her only by the absence of his body heat. She felt the power surge in her and instinctually reach out. Unconsciously she reached out with her hands, words coming to her lips, the power spiking within her as she ended the chant on a scream and collapsed to her knees.

"_Priestess."_

Melantha looked up at the raspy voice, gasping in delight at the dozen creatures before her. Some were vaguely human with gray flesh and glowing green eyes, very similar to the ghouls the Skinflayer had raised. Others were more bone than flesh, beasts of spikes and teeth and claws. And still others were ethereal, smoke like creatures emanating death itself, wisps of lethal smoke waiting.

"Very good, my Priestess," The Eternal purred.

Melantha rose, smiling in pleasure at the Eternal's approval. She turned to him, bowing deeply as she grasped his hand and kissed it, licking at the bloody bite mark she had left there. "Thank you, Master. I will use your gift to slaughter your enemies."

He smiled down at her. "Of course you will, my Priestess. But first you must gather your followers. Raise as many minions as you require and bring me the White Mistress and the instrument of truth."

"But I don't know what this instrument of truth is, Master," Melantha admitted.

"She possesses it," The Eternal stated simply. "Find her and you will find it."

"Yes, Master," she replied. She slipped closer to him, her fingers seductively tracing patterns on his bare chest as she smiled at him. "Is there anything else I could do for you, Master?"

His looked at her blankly. "No, why?"

Melantha backed away, flustered and confused at his indifference. "I'm sorry, I thought you, I mean – you kissed me."

"I was curious," he replied. "In this host's memories it seemed important."

"Kissing me was important?" Melantha asked in confusion.

"No, not you. The equal of this flesh." The Eternal looked puzzled. "Having tried this kissing I do not see the point in it."

"With the right person, it is its own sort of magic," Melantha replied, silently berating her foolishness. "It can be quit pleasurable."

"It was a pale experience." The Eternal decided. "But I'll defer to your understanding in this realm. Attend to the capture of the Mother Confessor."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Richard."

"Richard!"

Richard groaned, pain echoing through him, as he opened his eyes to find himself back in the peaceful glen with the small pond and waterfall. Sighing as the pain faded along with the terrible memory he rolled onto his back. He startled at seeing a man there dressed in rich red robes with gold trim and long dark hair brushing his shoulders. He frowned for a moment, considering him before recognition came and with it attendant memories.

"Darken Rahl." Richard said his older brother's name contemptuously.

Darken Rahl smiled slightly, looking strained even as he did so, sweat on his forehead.

"Hello, little brother. I haven't much time," Rahl said wincing as if in great pain. "You must not listen to the Eternal. It is lying to you."

"And you think I'll believe you?" Richard asked skeptically.

"No," Rahl said with a shake of his head. "But you value life above all else. The Eternal will snuff out that life if you give it what It wants."

"The Eternal says it wants to end suffering. Fix the mistakes the Creator made," Richard said.

Darken Rahl shook his head. "The Eternal is lying to you Richard. If you don't believe me, look at what it's doing to you."

Richard shook his head. "It's done nothing to me!"

Rahl stormed over to Richard stopping short of grabbing him by the shoulders. "Stop deluding yourself, Richard. Stop hiding here from your mistakes. From the torture the Eternal is putting you through."

Richard looked uncertain. "It's necessary."

Rahl scowled. "You're supposed to be the Seeker of Truth, Richard. Self delusion does not become you. Look and see for yourself."

Rahl's words cut off as he screamed in pain, falling to his knees. Richard grasped his shoulder, flinching in pain at the touch as his brother's apparition disappeared.

A soft, feminine laugh drifted to Richard's ear. Cruel. Mocking. "Who was that, Richard?"

Richard slowly turned to the woman now standing beside him. He swallowed hard, doubt entering his mind at her intentions. "My brother. He's dead."

"Curious," the Eternal noted. "Why would you recreate your dead brother? I thought he was harming you."

Richard was surprised at that. The Eternal had never manipulated this place before to his knowledge save to appear. "So you sent him away? You thought he was going to hurt me?"

"Of course, Richard. Great harm can come from those we least expect it from," the Eternal replied easily, a gentle smile on her face that was pleasant but did not touch the eyes. "They can sow seeds of doubt our enemies can exploit."

Richard nodded slowly. "You're right of course. I-I'm not sure why I even brought him here."

The Eternal smiled, this time genuinely. "Well it is an imperfection that was easily fixed."

"Is that how you'll fix the world when you manifest?" Richard asked. "It's that simple?"

"For me, it is as simple as a thought, Richard." The Eternal looked concerned and came close to him, resting a palm gently on his cheek. It wasn't warm, as he expected, but cold and lacking gentleness. "But simple doesn't mean without consideration. I need your faith to help guide my hand in the world we will create. Do I have your faith? Your trust?"

Richard nodded slowly. "Yes, Eternal."

"Good," She leaned in and kissed his cheek gently, her lips leaving him feeling cold. "Your mistress will be here soon. Have you made your decision?"

He shook his head. "No. I'm not certain."

"There's still time," the Eternal replied. "But time grows short."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

"_The Kerljaarg is a strange mountain range said to be the ancestral homeland to numerous magical creatures and beasts. Some believe it is a place even the Creator and the Keeper are wary of the magic the seeps into the land. It is a holy land to those who study necromancy, though few have ever returned from such journeys thanks to forbidding lands around it referred to as the Huntlands."_

- Chapter 45: The Holy Lands, _Feppendreau's Guide to the Mysterious_

Kahlan sighed with relief as Anand called a halt to their fast march through the rocky terrain for a brief respite. Sitting on a nearby rock she looked over the land. The forest they had departed just this morning in their headlong rush was barely noticeable on the horizon. Before them lay the mountains and something Anand called the Kerljaarg, a place of mystical power he said the Fleshweaver had claimed as her own. Around them were few bushes. Instead there were grasses and lichens interspersed between the rocks. Ahead of them she could easily see the low mountain range, more akin to hills really when compared to the massive heights of the Rang'Shada Mountains, but still impressive in their ominous form. Rising above them was a central mountain, far taller than the rest. Anand said the Kerljaarg lay at the top and could be reached via a winding path up the mountain.

She nodded her thanks to Cara while accepting a proffered water skin and quickly taking a few quick gulps of cool water. She absently noted not for the first time the slightly different taste of the water than she was used to in the Midlands. Around her she the two D'Haran guards and Minder Laire arranged themselves around her, Cara, and Zedd protectively, subtly placing themselves as a barrier to Bale Orken and his four Daruman warrior as well as Anand and the eight Skaald huntsmen. The wolf, Nokai, flit from group to group without concern, accepting the occasional offer of dried meat or water from a small bowl Bale provided.

Kahlan nodded her head in greeting to Anand and his ever faithful protector, Ludig, before allowing her eyes to travel to the forlorn looking mountains. Anand turned to see upon what she gazed, face grim.

"We're making good time. That's the Kerljaarg," he stated simply. "We've made faster time than I expected. If we hurry we may reach it by late afternoon and be done with the Fleshweaver by the end of the day."

"Tomorrow is the first dawn of the midnight sun," Zedd noted in a warning tone.

Anand nodded. "True. But considering how far we had to travel and through such dangerous territory I'm surprised we've accomplished this much. The spirits must be guiding us."

"Don't you find it suspicious that we're this close to the Fleshweaver's lair and we've yet to be challenged?" Cara asked wariness evident in her eyes and protective stance.

"Perhaps Melantha is overconfident," Ludig suggested. "The Skinflayer's minions have decimated this region. I haven't even seen any sign of Fulani Pyraad, Pygaar, or Hamjaan huntsmen." He pointed to the small valley to the west of them. "Their three huntlands intersect there and yet there is no sign of them. Nor do fires burn at the Fulanisaar Hearth where the clan elders meet."

Cara remained silent but her face, and those of the other D'Harans, clearly conveyed their skepticism and paranoia about the too peaceful and idyllic land they walked through. All were experienced in the ways of warfare and its effect on the land, regardless of how exotic or distant it may be from home. War was the same everywhere: brutal and destructive and leaving an indelible mark in its wake easily spotted by those who knew what to look for.

"We should rest and eat before we push on within the hour," Kahlan decided, earning an agreeing nod from Anand and Bale.

"Oh, don't rush on my account." The lilting voice from behind them, a hint of amusement, brought them to their feet.

Instantly the impromptu campsite came alive as men armed themselves in a cacophony of drawn swords, axes, crossbows, and knives and turned to the speaker. A lone frail looking woman stood upon a particularly large rock with dark haired and icy blue eyes dressed in a simply leather and yellow dyed wool robe with symbols embroidered around the collar. An odd symbol oozed blood from her forehead, complementing the symbols painted on her face and the blood staining her chin.

"Melantha," Anand seem to growl her name. "Have you finally come to your senses?"

The frail woman smiled confidently. "Ah, Anand of the Skaald, boorish as ever I see." She turned her eyes to Kahlan and the others. "You must be the White Mistress. Excuse me…Mother Confessor."

"I am," Kahlan replied surprised that this rather unimpressive looking woman bowed deeply to her.

"An honor to meet you, Mother Confessor, I've so looked forward to the encounter."

Anand looked puzzled. "So you've come to your senses then and finally see the truth of the Skinflayer."

Melantha nodded. "Oh, I've come to understand many, many things, Anand."

"Then you will assist us?"

"I cannot. I've already sworn myself to my Master," she replied with a malicious look. She flung her arms outward. The ground erupted around them as a host of creatures came forth: the familiar twisted forms of ghouls and Shadow People among new monstrosities and creatures that howled and groaned and hissed.

"Bring me the Mother Confessor," Melantha ordered.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

"_What lies between life and death? Between the Creator and the Keeper? Can you imagine the infinite possibility of what came before them? Answer this question and you will move beyond immortality into the very fabric of existence itself. I have found my answer. And your meaningless judgment changes nothing for me. I am beyond you now." _

– First Era Necromancer Ferax final words as quoted in _Doxie's Invioable Exigency_.

Melantha watched with a pleased smile as the ghouls dragged the prisoners into the chamber. Chains clinked as some of them struggled, particularly Anand and the Mord-Sith.

The battle with the undead minions had been a bloody but brief affair. Of their original party only Kahlan, Zedd, Cara, Minder Laire, Bale and Anand had survived, though Nokai it seemed had escaped the battle much to the rage of Melantha. The rest had been torn to pieces by the undead army. They were silent and brooding over their ambush and defeat as Melantha had triumphantly marched them up the mountain to the Kerljaarg.

Anand lunged at the ghoul that shoved him forward. A particularly strong blow felled the Fulani, the ghoul's claw like fingers poised over his throat as it hissed menacingly.

"If any of you continue to resist, he dies," Melantha stated coldly her words freezing the Mord-Sith in her place. She chuckled in amusement at the impotent fury on the blond woman's face, her eyes flicking to the woman in white who merely nodded her head ever so slightly.

Melantha approached the dark haired woman, looking her up and down critically. "So you are what my Master has been so concerned about. I'd thought the Mother Confessor would be more impressive."

"You have no idea what you are dealing with Melantha," Bale's raspy voice floated to her ears from the injured Fulani.

Melantha merely snorted, watching the woman and the bound wizard beside her look over her shoulder to the cloaked figure kneeling on the dais behind her. Her smile broadened at their confused looks. "You have something that belongs to my Master."

Kahlan's eyes focused on her once more, face settling into an emotionless mask. "I don't know what you mean."

"Really?" Melantha asked in mock surprise, gesturing to a ghoul who approached and handed her the Sword of Truth. It's scabbard gleaming in the firelight. Doubt flickered through Kahlan's eyes as she looked upon the sword. She was obviously surprised when Melantha held it out to her, urging her to take it. The Fleshweaver merely smiled at her confusion.

"Only you may give the Master what is rightfully his."

Determination set on Kahlan's face. "Then he will never receive it."

With that Kahlan swiftly drew the blade easily killing the two ghouls nearby as Melantha slipped away. Zedd turned allowed her to cut his bindings. As she turned to rejoin the battle that had erupted around them, clawed hands pinned her arms. Blood trickled from the sharp claws digging into her flesh. As quickly as the fight started it ended as the world seemed to explode in a flash of light. Blinking the after effects of the light away Kahlan saw the creatures now lying on the hard granite floor of the cave shrieking and tearing at their own rotting flesh even as they disintegrated until none were left.

"Cease your games, Priestess."

Melantha barely suppressed her moan of pain at the magic that cut through her. Despite the discomfort she was pleased to see the prisoners gasp in varying degrees of shock and pain. She bowed to the figure now standing on the dais, glowing eyes easily seen through the shade of the cloak. "I'm sorry, Master."

"Silence!"

Melantha complied, eyes widening in surprise as the Eternal strode down from the dais, slipping easily past the barrier of the grace. He stopped after no more than ten paces from the glyph. He bent at one knee, head bowed low to Kahlan who looked as puzzled as Melantha felt.

"It is an honor to meet you, Mother Confessor." The voice's echoing power was more subdued than before, with a familiar cadence and tone to Kahlan's ears. He rose once more throwing back the hood of his cloak to reveal his smiling face. "I am the Eternal."

Kahlan blanched at seeing Richard's face, even knowing it was not his spirit that possessed the body. The smile was all too familiar, a smile that haunted her waking days with her children and her nights in the dreams in which he resided.

Her impassive Confessor's mask crumbled as the weight of her loss gripped her. "Richard."

The smile on the Eternal's face slipped somewhat. "He is here."

"What?" Kahlan asked in surprise.

The Eternal took on a hurt expression. "Richard is here. Did you think I would harm him?"

Kahlan swallowed hard, forcing her face back into impassiveness. "You plan to destroy the world. What else would I think?"

"You've been deceived. Just like Richard was," the Eternal shook his head. "I have no intention of destroying the world. I only want back what is mine."

"I don't believe you," Kahlan stated defiantly. Her words earned her a sad smile as the Eternal turned and walked back up the dais.

"Of course you don't," the Eternal replied sounding regretful. He turned and walked back through the glyph before facing her once more. "What would convince you, I wonder."

"Kahlan, don't listen to him. That's not Richard." Zedd whispered his warning. If she heard him, she gave no indication as she stared at the Eternal.

"No, I'm not. But he is here," The Eternal interrupted tapping his bare chest. He held out a hand to Kahlan. "You can speak him if you wish but I require a price."

"The sword."

An all too familiarly charming smile came to the Eternal's face. "Yes."

Kahlan took a deep breath, straightening her back even further. "No."

The Eternal shrugged unconcernedly. "As you wish. Perhaps you will think differently with some time to reconsider."

"There is nothing to consider," Kahland declared.

"Perhaps," he said with a gesture. Several Shadow People materialized and surrounded them. "They won't hurt you, unless you try to escape."

The Eternal shook his head as he untied the cloak and tossed it to the side to reveal the simple dark trousers he wore underneath. He waved to Melantha who quickly complied gathering the cloak and scurrying to the bottom of the steps.

"It's nearly time."

The Eternal started chanting, the glyphs flaring to life on his body, dark tendrils of smoke rising from the grace and swirling around him. The ground started to rumble, becoming louder with each second until cracks rippled out across the granite ceiling. The walls cracked further as dust and rock soon filling the air. With a roar he shot his fists into the air. The world seemed to burst into light and sound as the mountain top above them exploded. The pieces that fell upon them disintegrated well above their heads as massive chunks of rock, bolder, granite were flung far from the eruption.

After several moments the dust cleared enough to see the top of the mountain was now gone. The roiling clouds above were visible in the pre-dawn light coming from the distant horizon. In the distance rock and debris struck the land below the mountain.

The first dawn of the midnight sun was here. It bathed the remnants of the granite cave in light, focused on the Skinflayer who spread his arms and threw back his head in laughter, welcoming the light.

"Spirits preserve us," Kahlan whispered to herself in shock at the immense power they had just witnessed.

Her words caught the Eternal's attention as he lowered his arms and focused on her. "I have no intent to harm you, Kahlan Amnell. I promised him as much for his assistance."

Kahlan shook her head in disbelief. "Richard would never help you destroy the world."

He smiled in response to her words. He rest a hand above his heart. "Of course he wouldn't. He cares for you very much Kahlan. Even now I can feel his love for you. He misses you."

"Don't listen to him, Kahlan," Cara warned as Kahlan stepped towards the dais.

"Then let him go!" Kahlan demanded, hand clenching the sword tightly.

"I'm afraid I cannot. Not until I've finished doing what I must," the Eternal replied. "He understands this. Accepts this. When I am done, I will release him." He looked at the sword in her hand. "But I need the magic of the sword to finish this."

"Kahlan, no!" Zedd shouted.

Kahlan ignored him as she climbed the steps to the dais. She turned to the old wizard with a sad smile. "I have to Zedd. I have to know."

She turned and stepped towards the Skinflayer, pausing at the edge of the grace. The Eternal smiled as he held out his hand. Nodding she took it and stepped into the grace.

"No!"

Ignoring the wizard's cry, the Eternal released her free hand. Wordlessly, Kahlan raised the tip of the blade pointed at the ground towards him but not threatening. His larger hand wrapping around hers. "Thank you, Kahlan Amnell."

Instantly the strange glow in Richard's eyes was gone, his blank face filled with surprised wonder.

"Kahlan?"

"Richard?" She whispered tearfully, free hand cupping his face. "Is that really you?"

Her tears fell silently as she felt him engulf her in his arms, holding her tight to his chest. "Oh, Kahlan, I missed you. I missed you so much."

"I missed you too."

He pulled back slightly, brushing a kiss onto her forehead before smiling at her. "I'm just sorry it's like this."

"Is what the Eternal said true? You—you're helping him?" She asked.

Richard's smile faded to a more somber expression. "I'm doing what's necessary to save the world. Just like you."

She smiled weakly. "I know." She closed her eyes and leaned in as he ran his fingers over her cheek.

"You're so beautiful. I had forgotten," he whispered in wonder.

She nodded as she opened her eyes and quickly kissed him, putting all of her passion into it. He hugged her tightly once more, both arms wrapped around her, as he buried his nose into her neck. "Everything is going to be all right."

"I love you." She whispered, tears flowing freely from her eyes and down her cheek.

"I love you too." His voice was cold once more, devoid of life. "But you should have listened to the wizard."

Kahlan's tightened her grip on the man before her, hand fisted around the sword as she reached back as far as she could. "You should have listened to me."

With that she stabbed as hard as she could, the sword easily slicing through the Eternal's flesh. The surprised grunt as she twisted the blade was clearly audible in the room. His blood flowed over her hand in sticky warmth. He shoved her away, one hand holding on the sword staring in disbelief.

Melantha shrieked in rage.

"What have you done?" The Eternal demanded.

"What prophecy dictated," Kahlan said in a detached tone.

Rage filled him as he lashed out at her with magic. Cara and Laire were quickly moving to help Kahlan, while Melantha and the Shadow People battled Zedd trying to break through the protective barriers the wizard had erected.

They could not reach her in time as lightning streaked out from his fingers. Kahlan cried out as they struck, dropping to her knees. Suddenly the lightning stopped. The Eternal towered over her, pain on his face, turned his head skyward.

"Come my hunters!" The world seemed to shudder with his words. Thunder rumbled in apparent reply.

Moments later the cavern filled with dozens of barren wolves appearing from thin air, teeth flashing, snarling, and snapping. But they didn't attack as expected. Instead they went for Melantha, who shrieked in terror as the first wolf fell upon her.

The Eternal collapsed to his knees eyes blinking in surprise. "What?" The Eternal sounded weak, tired.

Kahlan painfully picked herself off the floor. She saw the Eternal's hate filled eyes fade to Richard's normal brown. "Kahlan…finish this."

Nodding in understanding she quickly pulled the sword from his chest, causing him to fall back with a cry. She raised it over head and stabbed down as hard as she could as the Eternal's eyes glowed once more. He howled in rage as the blade pierced through flesh, a concussive shock wave rippling out from him and the grace. The Shadow People howled and disintegrated, back to the ether they came from. Melantha shrieked as the barren wolves finished tearing her apart.

Once the Fleshweaver's screams ceased the wolves slunk towards the dais, whining softly. For the first time Kahlan noticed Nokai amongst them, seemingly unafraid and uninjured.

"You haven't won, Kahlan Amnell," the Eternal growled. "I am eternal. I am everything. I will return."

The Lodi growled as she came to top of the dais, eyes fixed on the Skinflayer. The Eternal looked over at the wolves, a bemused smile crossing his face as the magic left his eyes. "How interesting…"

Nokai was instantly at Richard's side. Whining, the wolf licked his face gently as he groaned. Kahlan fell to he knees next to him, turning his pain wracked face towards her. "Richard?"

"He's gone," he said weakly, a trickle of blood dribbling down the side of his mouth.

Seeing his bloody hands pressed against his wounds she suddenly dropped the sword as if it burned her hands. She stripped off her heavy cloak and wadded it up, pressing it into the wound.

"No, Kahlan, no." Richard admonished her, breath gasping. "Leave the grace."

"What?"

"Leave the grace." He grunted before letting out a deep moan. "Please, I don't want you hurt. Please, Kahlan. Please!"

Not understanding why she did as he asked. Nokai followed her. She was greeted at the bottom of the steps by the others, Zedd catching her before she could fall to her knees as her legs seemed to give out. The Barren Wolves around them suddenly moved as one to the top of the dais. Richard disappeared in a sea of undead creatures.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

"_The Mord-Sith are a relative obscure cult of women that for generations have protected the House of Rahl and are known primarily for their brutal practices. Perhaps the most beneficial of the gifts the sisters of the Agiel possess, and one few know of, is the breath of life, a magic unheard amongst all other magic using creatures. It is said that with the breath of life, even the Keeper's Call can be temporarily revoked. Where this magic comes from and how it works remains a mystery to those not of their order. "_

– Chapter 27: The House of Rahl from _Feppendreau's Guide to the Mysterious_.

The wolves playfully romped and frisked around Richard. They backed away slightly as he sat up pain searing through him. Each in turn came to him, heads down low, and accepted his pats, ear scratches, and words of praise. Eventually all of the twisted creatures settled around him and Nokai trotted down the steps to rest on her haunches beside the others.

With one hand pressed to his largest wound and the other trembling he reached the Sword of Truth. His fingers curled around the pommel tightly. He felt the magic flare within him, erasing the physical pain. He closed his eyes at the sensation of the sword's magic passing through him once more. Taking a deep breath he rose to his feet deadened to the pain of his body but still aware of it. As he opened his eyes he saw the sword glowing brightly, light reflected off the eyes of the wolves that moved restlessly around him.

Raising the sword above him, he began chanting, gathering the magic of the sword, the Eternal, and his own. It built until it became excruciating and he allowed it to build beyond that. With a final shout he swung the blade down cracking the granite dais on which he stood breaking the boundary of the grace. Green light filled the air as dark tendrils of smoke rose from growing fissure. Breathing hard, fleck of blood on his lips, Richard kneeled down as the dais became engulfed.

"You hunted well my friends. Go now. Be at peace and rest."

One by one the wolves laid their heads down. Wraithlike shadows arose from their form. Eerie yips and howls filled the air as the ghostly forms looked briefly upon the others before fleeing into the rift. When the last wolf had passed through a shockwave rippled out, knocking those present back in a brief wave of darkness.

Richard smiled weakly at them, a strange gurgling laugh coming from his throat as the sword slipped from his fingers. The sound of the dropped sword rang loudly on the granite below. A moment later he collapsed.

"Richard!" Without worry for herself, Kahlan rushed over to his limp form, turning him on his back and brushing the hair from his pain filled eyes. "Richard," she whispered softly, tears starting to form.

"He's gone," he whispered. "We did it."

She nodded, sniffling as she smiled even as tears fell on his cheeks. "You did it."

He took a shuddering breath, eyes becoming glassy even as a contented look came to his face. A smile eased the obvious pain he was in. "Good. I just wish…"

Kahlan brushed the tears from her cheek. "Wish what?"

Terror rose in her as he remained still, eyes looking beyond her with a small smile. He was gone. "Richard! Richard, no!"

Kahlan barely noticed Cara rush to her side. "Let me give him the breath of life."

Kahlan merely nodded numbly at the Mord-Sith's words as she quietly watched Cara bring her lips close to Richards. A wisp of breath, light and airy traveled from the Mord-Sith's lips into Richards own.

Cara sat back expectantly and yet Richard did not move.

"Nothing's happening," Kahlan whispered hoarsely.

"Perhaps his soul was lost when the Eternal was forced from this realm," Zedd surmised, voice wavering despite his clinical tone. "Such a sacrifice is not unheard of."

"I don't understand. It's not working," Cara said with some consternation. She moved aside as Kahlan kneeled down beside Richard's head.

She gently lifted his head into her lap, tears trickling down her face to splash on Richard's pale face. She brushed the hair off his forehead. She curled over his form, weeping silently and whispering.

"I love you, Richard. It can't end like this. Please come back."


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

"_Knowledge of the Underworld belongs to the bone-dancers, _

_The magic of the Underworld is for the bringers of the dead._

_To the rest- the wails of souls._

_And for the Master of Life and Death—silence shall reign."_

- Translation of First Era Necromancer Ferax's _The Dancing Bones_ 2nd stanza

Darken Rahl approached quietly as he watched his brother stand in the eerie glow of the Underworld. Shadow and light dappled over Richard's naked form from the nearby fires, their crackling and snaps the only sound to be heard. Normally the sea of souls nearby would be writhing with screams of terror and despair echoing around them, but for now the Keeper demanded silence of them. They complied.

Richard's dark eyes took in the mass of human souls with a curiously blank expression. Darken Rahl thought it interesting that the unfortunates cowered when their eyes met his brother's gaze as if they expected him to strike them down. Most never looked up and merely trembled as his brother paced by them slowly.

"Ah, my brother, welcome again to the Underworld." Rahl announced with a smile. And pleased he was after receiving his reward. He had but one last thing to do before the veil sealed once more.

"Darken Rahl," was the simple reply from his brother. He could see no fear or concern in Richard's face at the situation. Instead an oddly calm expression bordering on a smile came to his face.

"The Keeper is most pleased with you," Darken Rahl said, inspecting his finger nails in exaggerated disinterest.

"Really? I would think otherwise," Richard replied sarcastically.

"It's not everyday the Keeper owes a mere mortal a favor, my dear brother," Rahl replied, earning a questioning look from Richard.

"A favor?"

"Perhaps favor is the wrong word," Rahl conceded. "Let us say more of an allowance. Should your friends decide to revive you; the Keeper and the Creator have come to an accord. They will allow you to return to your life."

"One life was enough. I have no need for another," Richard said bitterly. A scowl came to his face as he waved his hand vaguely above them. "There is nothing there."

Darken Rahl was surprised at the answer. "You surprise me brother, especially after all your efforts to save them from the Eternal."

"I didn't do it for them."

"What about your beloved Kahlan? The wizard? Do none of them matter to you any more?" Rahl asked.

"They've done well enough without me," Richard replied dismissively. "I'm tired of a life of duty and death. Let another take my place."

Darken Rahl hadn't anticipated such discontent from his brother, but suspected that was why he had been tasked with last effort. Rahl scoffed. "Come now, Richard. Lies don't become a Seeker. I can feel the anger coming from you, anger only born by a betrayed heart."

"My heart is my own!" Richard snarled grasping Rahl's forearm. Both jerked apart at the burning sensation, matching expressions of surprise.

Rahl fingered the scorched impression of his brother's handprint on his sleeve, murmuring to himself in wonder. Implications flitted briefly through his mind before his thoughts were dragged back by the disquiet voice of his brother.

"Would you not say I've earned my rest fairly?"

"Fair enough," Rahl agreed after a long pause.

He considered the man before him noting for the first time how wan his brother's frame seemed, tired, and nearly stooping from his burdens. But it was the eyes, far older than any Rahl had seen that shook him.

Power lie there, old, ancient. Darken Rahl suspected it was a remnant from Richard's time with the Eternal. For a brief moment he considered releasing Richard from the last demand the Keeper had commanded fearing that ancient power, but knew he could not. Both the Creator's and the Keeper's wishes were final. It was now up to him to ensure those wishes were carried out.

"I'm surprised at you, really, such pettiness. But consider this my brother: while you have eliminated the threat of the Eternal, you have unleashed darkness upon the world that may prove equally as dangerous to the innocents still living there. And we all know how you believe in protecting the innocent."

Anger flashed in his brother's eyes. "Make your point."

"Magic is unleashed, magic _you_ released at Tamarang. Magic _you_ released when you created your pets for the Fleshweaver. You wouldn't want to be responsible for an innocent soul coming to the Keeper's grace because of your irresponsible actions, would you?" Rahl mocked, smiling at the heated look his brother gave him.

"Of course not!"

After a moment Richard laughed. It was a cruel sound Rahl had never heard from him before, harsh and angry. With a perceptive smile Richard nodded his head. "So the Keeper wants me to go back. Is that it?"

"Yes," Rahl replied, "To clean up this untidy business with the Eternal. Nothing more."

"As an agent of the Keeper? A baneling?"

"No, the Creator had forbidden the Keeper such a requirement in their agreement over dealing with the Eternal. You, as it so happens, are covered by that covenant." Rahl replied. "In fact, should you instead decide to remain here with us, any attempts by your friends to revive you from the spirit world will fail. For eternity. You will be allowed to return to your place amongst the good spirits, all of this a mere unpleasant memory swept away and forgotten."

Richard looked out over the river or souls into the distant gouts of green flame and black smoke for a time. Rahl could tell his brother's reticence was wavering as he considered what he had been told. After a time he turned back to Darken. "And if I return to the land of the living and die again?"

"Your place amongst the good spirits is assured assuming you do not commit an unforgivable sin," Rahl replied.

Richard's brow furrowed at that. "Why are they so generous with me? I'd think they would prefer I remain with the spirits."

"You saved the Underworld, my brother! If that could not earn the Keeper's favor, nothing would." Rahl laughed at irony even as he saw Richard frown in disgust. "As for the Creator, I don't know Her reasons, perhaps because you chose to save the good spirits as well as the damned."

"So it's my choice?"

Rahl nodded noting Richard's form was starting to lose cohesion. It was subtle still, a barely perceptible blurring at the edges of his outline. No doubt it was Cara attempting to use the breath of life. "Yes, but you must decide quickly. Your friends will not be long in attempting to revive you."

He stepped closer to his brother, gently resting his hands on Richard's shoulders and relieved not to be burned this time. "Though we are enemies you must listen to me. Neither the Creator nor the Keeper offer second chances often, and but for this one time without a cost. Your choices are clear: remain here with us knowing your life was misspent or return there and finish what you started."

Richard twitched as his body was rapidly becoming engulfed in green and black smoke, eyes burning in anger at Rahl. Darken raised his hands in preparation for the spell that would lock Richard Rahl's soul in the Underworld forever.

"You must choose now."


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

"_Reports of the Lord Rahl's death are greatly exaggerated."_

- D'Haran Ambassador Jarik Ross as quoted in _Feppendreau's Guide to the Mysterious_.

The cool breeze tugged at her clothing, making it snap and flutter around her frame. The chill seeped underneath her outer cloak from time to time to cool her skin despite the wool, linen and fur wraps she wore underneath. The pages of her journal fluttered slightly. A hint of sulfur touched the humid air, the last remnants of the ever receding fiery cliffs of the Skaaldren. It added to the slightly bitter tang from the icy water as the ship sliced through the placid waves with ease.

Kahlan was at peace. Perhaps not joyful, but she was hopeful for the future. Cara had successfully revived Richard and though he was in immense pain, Kahlan had been brought to tears of happiness. Happiness that did not pass even as Richard quickly distanced himself from Zedd and herself, relying on Cara and the wolf, Nokai, in the weeks after their defeat of the Eternal.

They stayed for a time with the Fulani Skaaldren to negotiate a peace between the Fulani and the Hekana as well as to sit in judgment over the trial of the Fulani Pyraad who had started the war. All present had insisted as Mother Confessor she sit in judgment over the Pyraad. She had been surprised that the Hekana demanded no punishment beyond being provided supplies to support their people until the next harvest and fishing season so they could have time to rebuild their ships. It was the remaining Fulani clans that had demanded the entire Pyraad Clan be slaughtered to erase the dishonor they had cast upon their huntlands.

The lone _Drakon_ sent to watch the proceedings for her race showed little interest in the trial, sitting off away from the crowds near a cluster of trees by the open air court. Richard would often watch the proceedings from there as well, Minder Laire and Nokai at his side, while Cara patrolled around his position with rare stops to speak with him.

Zedd explained to her the _Drakon_ were a distant race to dragons, which explained the similar scaly hide glisten a silvery grey-blue. Unlike the dragons of the Midlands and D'Hara the _Drakon_ were much smaller, lither, with large delicate wings and narrower head full of multiple razor sharp teeth on their expressive faces. More than once she caught herself curiously watching the large reptile's sinuous neck arch down to Richard to speak with him. Even being smaller than other dragon's, the creature made the tall trees seem small.

The Pyraad elders were defiant and unremorseful in initiating the war. Kahlan condemned them to death for their crimes. Once confessed their reasons were simple and clear: greed. They wanted the Hekana lands and waters for themselves. The Pyraad clan itself was ordered restitution to the Hekana, a judgment deemed fair by the new elders and the other Fulani. The _Drakon_ stayed long enough to watch the executions before turning to Kahlan bowing once with its head and wishing her a long life. It then turned to Richard speaking to him in a language Kahlan did not understand only recognizing Richard's name before it gracefully launched itself into the air and swiftly headed for a distant mountain range in the east.

She never asked Richard what the Drakon said but she could tell he had at least understood it. Since then, when not resting to recover from his wounds Richard wore a thoughtful expression on his drawn face for the rest of the time they spent at the Skaaldren Hearth gathering supplies for their return through the Skaaldren to the Midlands.

The journey back to Rang'Shada Mountains went without incident. Much of the time Richard rested on the makeshift cot wrapped in furs and blankets to keep warm, sleeping through the most painful time of his healing wounds thanks largely to the potions provided to them by the grateful healers of the Skaald huntsmen. When awake he would have brief conversations with Cara or simply stroke the fur of the ever present Nokai.

Kahlan was concerned over his lack of interaction with her and Zedd, but took the old wizard's advice in allowing Richard to recover and come to them on his own terms. More frightening than the silence was the often blank expression on his face. His eyes were sometimes devoid of even recognition on the rare occasions she directly spoke with him. She heeded Zedd's words and kept their interactions at a minimum, choosing to simply be nearby, allowing him to know she was there without being intrusive.

The slower return afforded her a great deal of time to appreciate the land they had so quickly passed through previously and found herself taking to writing of the wonders and sites they saw. Every day seemed to bring a new wonder to her eyes. The first sunset of the midnight sun, the impressive geysers of the Skaald as they left the lands of Fulani behind, the towering islands of ice and snow as they crossed on an ice ship over the sea, and the fiery majesty of the Skaaldren as rivers of fire and molten earth sloughed into seas below immense dark mountains that lit the far mountain ridge were but a few of these.

She glanced over to her right to find Richard watching the volcanoes and lava flows of the Skaaldren with wonder, a smile clearly present on his face. The fur of the hat he wore ruffled in the brisk breeze. Nokai sat beside him, tail lazily waving as the animal looked out over the scene with apparent interest as well. She felt herself smile at the sight and turned her gaze back to the vista for a moment, before dipping her pen into the inkwell and attempt to describe the sight before them as she had been doing for weeks.

She wanted to reclaim some of the lost connection, the lost history between the people of the Northlands and the Confessors. So she wrote of everything she could remember seeing, every thought, describing the lands, the people, and the events. Mostly she wrote of her own fears, fears winding their way into her heart, tainting her thoughts which each day bringing them closer to Bale Orken's home, to the Rang'Shada Mountains and the journey home to Aydindril.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

"_The place of a Mord-Sith is beside the Lord Rahl."_

– Mistress Cara

Cara silently rose from leaning against a small bolder she had appropriated as she watched the others finish establishing their camp for the night. As Richard approached her she noticed his slight limp and slow pace compared to the vigor she remembered. None the less she was pleased at his obvious progress in healing since being freed of the Eternal and the Skinflayer. She knew his healing had been a painful process, made more difficult by his stubborn refusal to allow the others, namely Zedd or Kahlan, to assist him in anyway. Lingering resentment or anger she supposed could do that to even one such as the Lord Rahl. Which of these emotions drove his behavior and the source of the turmoil still eluded her despite their talks.

Richard had finally accepted some assistance during the journey as his strength and energy returned. He was no longer pale and weak, but tanned by the sun and looking stronger by the day. She hardly even noticed the barely noticeable symbols and emblems that marked his face and body any more.

At his nod she quickly fell in step beside him noting the clothes he wore: the black half boots with their straps wrapped around his lower calves and the oddly dyed wool pants and shirt favored by the Fulani under a heavy fur lined wrap with metal brocaded bands as trim and a heavy bear skin cloak gave him a decidedly barbarian appearance. She knew somewhere under the shirt he once more wore his old inscribed tooth Zedd had quietly returned to him one evening on the ship. She made a mental note to get him clothing appropriate to the Lord Rahl once they reached the D'Haran field camp at Taalsrung.

She was at least relieved to see he had taken off the fur cap with the metal knot work. Over his shoulder he carried a short sword in its linen wrapped oak lathe scabbard, the simple iron pommel and cross guard inlaid with silver and whalebone, while at his waist came the more familiar and grand looking silver and gold Sword of Truth. At his boot she noted the antler handle of his a _scramseax_, the single edged knife favored by the Fulani given as a gift from the Skaald Clan.

She silently followed him into a thicket of trees easily stepping over the detritus of the forest floor with old familiarity. After a dozen paces or so he stopped and leaned to rest against a tree. He tilted his head back against the rough bark with closed eyes and took a deep breath. She couldn't help feel a small smile tug at her lips at the sight of him.

"You can stop smiling," Richard said without opening his eyes with what she suspected was a satisfied twitch of the lips.

"I never smile, Lord Rahl," she replied easily. "I merely show approval when it is earned."

"Of course," he conceded. His amusement slipped away as he opened his eyes and straightened himself. She could see a hint of anger glimmering in his eyes but at what she was uncertain. "Tell me what's happened with D'Hara since I died."

Cara merely blinked, surprised at his demand. Nearly every night and even some days Zedd or Kahlan told Richard of the events occurring in the Midlands, D'Hara, and elsewhere since his death at Tamarang. Obviously, what she thought had been his intent interest at their words had in fact been otherwise.

She considered that he might not have been truly able to pay attention given his recovery. "I thought you were listening to Zedd and Kahlan?"

"I want to hear it from a D'Haran without the omissions they think I need not know," Richard snapped.

"They spoke truthfully, my lord." Cara replied formally, stiffening at his abrupt tone and agitated demeanor. "All of it."

"So there is an heir to the throne," Richard murmured more to himself before shaking his head. "I suppose it shouldn't surprise me there is another Rahl out there besides myself and Jennsen. I'm sure Darken…"

"Darken Rahl had no heir," Cara interrupted causing Richard to frown.

"But this heir to the House of Rahl, he is a child. That's what Zedd said," Richard noted, casting a glance her way. "You've met him."

Cara wanted to growl her frustration at Zedd and Kahlan. They had assured her when she had broached the subject that they would inform Richard of Markis' parentage but had obviously not done so.

"Yes," Cara agreed. "He's a lot like you: inquisitive, always getting himself into trouble. Apparently he is remarkably adept at magic for one so young."

She gestured towards him as if she knew he understood what she meant as he ran his fingers through his hair. "They say blood will out. Like father, like son."

His movements froze as her words registered in his mind, the full ramifications dawning on him. "My son?"

"Yes, Lord Rahl. Your son."

"I don't have a son. I never…you of all people know I haven't been with anyone since we left Aydindril," he stated agitatedly. "You were the closest I even came to considering…well, you know."

Cara nodded mutely, remembering the sole time she had offered herself to him. He had refused, gently of course, and some how that failed proposition had sealed her unwavering loyalty and their friendship, any doubts or questions on her place with him erased. She remained silent as she saw a myriad of emotions cross his face before settling into a cold anger.

"Kahlan is his mother." His tone was cold.

"Yes," Cara confirmed neutrally. She decided to answer him simply until he worked it all out for himself.

Richard shook his head, an ugly look upon his face—jealousy. "And her daughter, Sonja, is from her new mate I suppose."

"No, Richard, Kahlan has taken no mate," Cara corrected him. "Sonja is Markis' sister. His twin."

"His twin?" he asked somewhat stunned.

"Yes," Cara nodded. "I do not claim to know such things but Zedd said something about it being rare to have twins, more so for Confessors. Apparently twins of different genders a greater rarity."

She watched as he paled somewhat, so much so that she quickly hurried over and helped him lean back against the tree. He took in several deep breathes, his gaze slightly unfocused. After a moment he collected himself, anger once more in his eyes.

"Why didn't she tell me?"

Cara shook her head sorrowfully. "I don't know. Perhaps she felt it would be better for you to recover more before doing so."

Richard waved his hands in frustration. "I mean why not sooner, when I had ascended the throne?"

"I don't know," Cara lied easily. The knowledge shared with her over the secrecy surrounding the twins would be better told by Kahlan.

"Seems they have everything all settled, I'm surprised they even bothered to bring me back," Richard snapped bitterly. "I guess I'm here just to clean up the mess."

"Are you angry I revived you?" Cara asked uncertainly, mentally noting his new, apparently self appointed, quest. Whatever it was, she would inquire about it later.

Richard reigned back his ange, knowing it was wrongly directed at his friend and protector. "No. No, I'm not angry at you. You did what a Mord-Sith is supposed to do: protect the Lord Rahl."

"Then what angers you so?"

"I was content," he sighed. Seeing her confused look he continued on. "Being dead I mean. Not happy, really, but…content. I missed you and Kahlan and Zedd but I was with my father and brother again, my family and friends who'd died before. I knew I would see you all once more so it didn't seem so bad being there even with everything that was left unfinished. I was free of my burdens."

Cara nodded in understanding. "I see. You do not wish the burdens being Lord Rahl entails?"

"No I do not!" His sudden burst of anger didn't seem to surprise the Mord-Sith. "Haven't I done enough?"

Cara's face became neutral, impassive. The face of Mistress Cara, his most trusted Mord-Sith, about to teach him a lesson. "Responsibility is often thrust upon those unable to deal with it. You are a happy exception to that sad state. The fact that it weighs upon you, concerns you so, means you are the proper individual to bear such a burden. Such men are legendary."

"I would happily like nothing more than to disappear into my woods and be forgotten," Richard replied tiredly. Cara noted a sheen to his eyes she suspected were the beginnings of tears. She decided if any dared ever ask that it was simply dust.

"I can't do this alone."

The sad, broken tone to his voice made Cara swallow her own anguish for him. She dropped her Mord-Sith persona, becoming once more simply Cara, his friend. He was one of a handful of people she felt comfortable enough to open up with in such a manner.

"But you are not alone, Richard," Cara said softly, carefully resting a hand on his shoulder. It was an old gesture from their time together that felt as reassuring to her now as it had felt back then. She tried to carefully phrase her words to balance duty with friendship. "I and the sisters of the Agiel will help you if you wish it. The wizards will help as well. So too the Confessors, if need be."

She noted when his eyes closed in pain and he pulled away. "You doubt my words?" She asked.

"No," his voice was hoarse. "Hers. She doesn't love me."

The certainty and desolation in those words made Cara sympathize with Richard even as she felt exasperated at the man's obliviousness to Kahlan's feelings towards him. At least now she had some inkling of his strange behavior since she had used the breath of life to revive him. "So this about Kahlan?"

He spun towards her looking at a loss for words before looking away into the trees around them. She allowed him the time he needed to think through his words, give voice to the fear she knew he harbored inside. "I can't do this without her."

"Then don't."

There was another long pause; Cara ignored his hand quickly wiping away the lone tear that escaped his eyes due to the dust. "I can't. Knowing she can never love me, will never love me….I don't know, don't think I can do that."

"I would never presume to know your heart, Richard. Nor hers. But if you love her as you say but she does not feel the same, then perhaps you can at least have her friendship." Cara said quietly. "Friendship can take you farther than you might think possible. You taught me that."

"It hurts. Dear spirits, I never knew I could hurt this much without so much as shedding a drop of blood."

"But the pain reminds you, you are live. As long as you live, you have a chance to defeat your enemies." Cara quoted an old D'Haran maxim.

A hint of a smile broke through his pained expression. "Spoken like a Mord-Sith."

Cara smiled gently in agreement. "Yes."

He came over to her, resting a hand gently on her cheek with an affectionate look on his face. "Thank you, Mistress Cara, for teaching me to withstand pain."

She swallowed hard at the lump in her throat. He spoke with genuine respect and gratitude and without a trace of the bitterness and sarcasm brought forth by his training at Denna's hands as he had so often done in the past. She bowed her head in return feeling humbled.

"I live to serve the Lord Rahl."

"I live to serve D'Hara," he murmured in reply.

She looked up with an approving smile as he removed his hand and step back.

She saw him frown slightly. "So what do I do about Markis and Sonja? Markis belongs in D'Hara at the People's Palace."

"He is safe in Aydindril. Both of them are." Cara assured him. "The Mord-Sith and Minders see to that. And the Mother Confessor has been most generous in allowing a D'Haran garrison into the city along with a diplomatic mission. The children spend more time with D'Harans than anyone else, I suspect."

"Do they know about me?" Richard asked.

Cara smile, reassuringly. "Every day they hear stories about Richard Rahl, from me, the D'Harans, the Minders, Zedd, and Kahlan. She insisted they know who their father was, where they came from."

"Tell me about them."

Cara gestured towards the encampment. "We should return to the camp. We will eat and I will tell you of your children. Perhaps you can even have a long overdue talk with Kahlan."

"I think we'll save that discussion for another time when there are fewer witnesses to the argument," Richard noted sardonically. "So everything else they spoke of about D'Hara, the Midlands, and the problems with magic are true?"

"As far as I know, yes." Cara shrugged. "What do you intend to do?"

"Be the Lord Rahl and deal with them," he replied with a frown. Shaking off his troubled look he smiled slightly, looking more at ease at whatever decision he had come to. "But first I want to hear about my children."

"As you wish, Lord Rahl." Cara fell in step beside him as they started back.

"Cara, I never asked you, but how is Serena?"

Cara wasn't surprised he looked a bit abashed at not having asked about her daughter sooner. Cara smiled. "She is well. I miss her, but she enjoys having other children to play with."

She frowned slightly causing a worried look to come to Richard's face. "Cara?"

"She's fine, even if she had taken to wearing pink dresses." Cara sighed in disgust.

Richard laughed loudly at that. She felt herself join in even as she tried to scowl.

"I'm sure it's just a passing phase," Richard said with a grin.

"It better be. No daughter of mine should wear pink."


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

"_The Wizard's Keep outside of Aydindril for millennia has been the focal point of all magical learning, but with each passing generation fewer users of magic have traveled to the Keep. The absence of a First Wizard for so many years led to a wide and varied magic diaspora across the lands with no unifying place of learning. It is speculated by some that by the end of the Current Era that the Keep may become the last major repository of magic."_

- Chapter 6: Places of Learning and Knowledge, _Feppendreaus' Guide to the Mysterious_

The fire crackled with a shower of small embers and sparks rising into the air as Richard tossed another piece of wood into the flames. He leaned back with a sigh to continue staring into the flames as he contemplated the stories Cara had told him. In the darkness around them a half dozen or so similar fires burned, soldiers huddled around talking, eating, and resting. Still more campfires could be seen spread out through the open glen and dotting distant points in the forest.

During the storytelling, Kahlan and Zedd had remained quiet casting uneasy looks Richard's way at first before settling into to simply listen for themselves. Richard could tell they were surprised into silence at his knowledge of children's origin. He hadn't been visibly angry about it, though he felt a simmering anger inside. After a time, Kahlan excused herself claiming the need for sleep and Cara eventually retired to her usual nightly patrol, leaving grandson and grandfather to their own devices.

"I missed you boy," Zedd finally said softly.

"I know." The reply was equally as soft. "I missed you too."

"But you are angry with me?"

"Yes," Richard admitted. After a moment to consider his words he asked the question that came foremost to his mind. "Why didn't either of you say anything about Markis and Sonja?"

The old man sighed, face downcast unhappily. "I suppose because I feared you would hate me."

"Why would I hate you for knowing Kahlan had my child, my children?" Richard looked incredulously at his grandfather, hurt obvious in his eyes.

Zedd looked away in shame. "Because I was the one who suggested she keep them hidden from you."

"But, why?"

"I didn't want you distracted from what you needed to do in D'Hara," Zedd explained sorrowfully. "And later, after you had assumed the throne, there never seemed a good time. Despite my suggestions she did try and send you word but you never received it thanks to that traitorous Prince Fyren."

Zedd shook his head. "There's no excuse for what I did. Nothing I can say to ever make up for my actions."

"So Kahlan did try to send me word of them?" Richard asked sounding surprised.

Zedd nodded his head vigorously, with a small, sad smile. "Indeed she did, though she did so in secret. I regret through my actions she actually feared confiding in me. I noticed she was greatly upset before she finally came to me one night in tears. She begged me to forgive her for trying to contact you. I realized then I had made a terrible mistake. I have tried to do what I can to correct that mistake, to regain her trust and faith in me and herself ever since."

Richard smiled gently at that. "I'm glad. I may not like what you did, but I know you meant well. Wizard's Second Rule."

Zedd chuckled softly at that. "Indeed. Even an old wizard needs a reminder on that particular rule."

"That's why I need your help, Zedd," Richard hunched forward, resting his hands on his knees. Zedd leaned forward with him in curiosity.

"If I'm to try and fix the damage I've done by unleashing the Excoriating Web, I need to finish training at the Wizard's Keep in Aydindril. I'd like for you to be my mentor, if you'll have me."

"I can't, Richard," Zedd protested.

"Zedd, please." Richard cut him off. "I need someone who can properly train me to control my han."

Zedd cast a sharp glance at his grandson. "And how exactly did you get your han back anyway?"

Richard held his gaze for a moment, before turning back to stare at the fire. "Nicci."

"I see." Zedd waited patiently expecting Richard to explain himself.

"I don't want to talk about it. Not yet, anyway." Richard said, a distracted look briefly crossing his features.

"Fair enough, Richard," Zedd allowed. "But I still can't teach you."

"Why?"

The old wizard smiled proudly at him, reaching over to rest a hand on his shoulder. "Because you are already my equal."

Richard huffed in confusion. "I don't understand. I don't know even a fraction of what you do when it comes to magic."

Zedd sighed heavily, leaning in towards his grandson with an intent expression. "Richard, you are a Wizard of the First Order."

Richard frowned in puzzlement. "But I don't know spell forms or incantations or-or any of it!"

"Bah! Trifles. Anyone can learn that part," Zedd said dismissively, wiggling his fingers exaggeratedly. "A wizard is always studying, always learning new spells and magic, especially one of the First Order." The old man smiled in obvious pleasure. "It'll be nice to have someone to talk of such matters with."

"But what of the tests?" Richard wondered aloud, remembering the stories told by the other wizards, both those at the Keep and in D'Hara: tests of knowledge, tests of skill, tests of character. But most importantly, tests of pain.

Zedd looked grave even as he waved his hand as if dismissing such concerns. "There is no test I could conceive of that could burden you more than what you have already undertaken. There are no tests of pain greater than those you've already undergone. Your power made your actions possible but it was your decisions that made you of the First Order. In that there is nothing more I can teach you that experience has already brought you."

"Having the power doesn't mean I have the wisdom." Richard noted, earning a pleased smile from the old wizard.

"And with those words you've taken that first step on the path to that wisdom," Zedd replied with some admiration and familial pride. "You do our line proud, Richard."

"So you'll teach me?" Richard extended his hand towards his old friend and mentor.

"I can only guide you, offer my counsel. Nothing more." Zedd nodded as he grasped his grandson's hand, sealing their agreement.

"Fair enough." With that the two men shared a brief hug, before returning to their respective seats to watch the fire and bask in their new found understanding.

After a moment, a mischievous grin came across Richards face. "I hate robes. I'm not wearing any robes."

Zedd's laughter carried over the camp at the humorous finality of his grandson's words.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

"_There's nothing more dangerous than a politician with a want, save a Confessor with a broken heart_."

– attributed to Mother Confessor Magda Searus

Richard could feel his face tighten in a smile as he watched the sight before him.

Kahlan was surrounded by what Richard could think of as a gaggle of officials and soldiers from Aydindril, apparently having set out to greet her ahead of her return. By the snatches of conversation he could hear he knew the loud gathering involved a myriad of concerns, some more important than others: a request for a Confessor, several trade disputes, an official looking for a private audience, invitations to a party, and a request from the D'Haran Ambassador for a grand banquet to welcome back the Lord Rahl. The last made Richard wince, as he never really felt comfortable with the royalty that made up either the D'Haran Empire or the Midlands Alliance.

Still, he was getting some amusement at seeing Kahlan's brief eye roll as if asking the Creator herself for strength before putting on her Confessor's mask and dealing with the officious men. He allowed himself a moment to look her over, appreciating how well the simple white dress looked on her and unconsciously noting the changes in her figure he hadn't noticed before. Her long luxurious hair was as thick and wavy as he remembered, accentuating her tanned skin, and framing her blue eyes. Her figure was more curvaceous than he remembered making him wonder if his memory was faulty or if it had been the rigors of carrying his children. She caught his staring at her and smiled briefly at him, looking almost abashed at his attention.

As they had journeyed back through the dangerous heights of the Rang'Shada Mountains and into the Midlands he had found himself watching her more often, surreptitiously at first and more overt once they'd left the mountains behind. So too had he found themselves speaking more often, mostly about affairs of state or innocuous topics like the weather and the countryside. He found himself growing closer to her despite no obvious affection in return from her. This had led to some rather lustful dreams that sometimes seeped into his waking thoughts.

Shaking his head to clear the lustful thoughts she brought to mind he turned his attention to another source for his amusement: their little troupe's nominal cook arguing with Zedd over ingredients to add to a large pot of strew boiling over the fire. It was hard to say which group was noisier as both earned more than a glance from soldiers passing by.

A huffing sound beside him drew his attention to the large wolf beside him. It looked to him that Nokai was grinning at him, sharing in this small bit of amusement. He reached over and scratched his furry friend's ears before stroking the dense fur along her sleek frame. Giving the wolf a gentle pat, he rose to his feet.

"Try not to steal the venison this time, okay?" He asked Nokai as he picked up and belted the Sword of Truth around his waist.

Nokai eyed him with what he interpreted as a decidedly offended look before snorting, folding her paws before her and laying head down ignoring him. He chuckled softly too himself. "Be good and maybe I'll bring back a rabbit or something."

That earned him a quick swish of the tail, but otherwise the wolf kept its eyes fixed on the pot of stew as Richard departed.

Reaching his tent, he noted only one guard nearby who came to attention and saluted as he passed, and then quickly fell in behind him. Repressing his annoyance, he turned to the young man gesturing towards his tent. "I'm just going to catch a nap."

"Yes, Lord Rahl." The young guard promptly placed himself outside the tent flap. Richard just walked inside and shook his head. Seeing the pack Cara had brought for him, he quickly snatched it up. He was grateful she had thought to bring some of his clothes from D'Hara. The warmer weather had quickly become bothersome in the heavier garb favored by the Fulani and the lighter clothes had been a welcome change. Feeling restless, he quickly slipped out the back of the tent under the lip of the cloth and was off into the woods.

They were close enough to Aydindril now, only a few days ride, that he knew exactly where he wanted to go. It only took an hour's walk to find the small glade he wanted. He could hear the water in the nearby creek gurgling and splashing as he set his pack down by an old fallen hollowed out tree, its bark long since turned gray and smooth with time and the elements. Feeling the warm sun, he stripped off the black linen shirt and draped it over the trunk before moving further away.

He rested his hand on the pommel of the Sword of Truth. Inhaling the smells around him in a deep relaxing breath, he allowed his senses to sharpen as he focused his mind. The unique sound of the blade being pulled from its scabbard brought a smile to his face even as he felt its magic flare through him. As he had done several times the past few weeks he allowed himself to become absorbed in reacquainting himself with the sword, lost in the forms and movements of the blade.

Kahlan suppressed her desire to sigh in exasperation as she departed the group of ministers, military officers, and assorted officials from Aydindril, having convinced them she would consider each of their requests in turn once they agreed amongst themselves upon the order in which they would be heard. She did allow herself a small smile in getting them involved debating each other and giving her time to slip away. As she walked by Zedd and the D'Haran cook, she noted the two men were like old chums now "ooh-ing" and "ah-ing" as they added spices and tasted their creation before them, their argument apparently forgotten in their shared culinary delight.

"I'm going to walk for a bit, clear my head," she said to the old wizard, who gave her a quick smile and nodded his head.

"If you see Richard, let him know I have some ideas on how to address the Wailing Woods of Tamarang," he said.

She simply nodded, noting Nokai was watching her intently as she passed the fire. She half expected the animal to follow her given the creature's intense gaze. She wasn't entirely certain why the animal insisted on coming along with them as Richard claimed it wasn't a pet, but a friend. She'd certainly never seen a wolf act in such a manner in her admittedly limited experience.

As she approached the line of tents set up for use by the D'Haran officers as well as her, Zedd, Cara, and, of course, Richard, she noted the lone D'Haran soldier dutifully standing guard outside the tent Richard appropriated for his use. At her approach the young man snapped a quick salute.

"Lord Rahl is resting, Mother Confessor."

"Did he ask not to be disturbed?" she asked. She was deciding whether to interrupt his rest to deliver Zedd's message before continuing on her intended walk through the wood to a small creek she remembered was nearby.

"No, ma'am," he replied. "I could awaken him if you wish."

Kahlan knew Richard was getting stronger every day. She had watched as he took up a number of unorthodox methods to regain not only his strength but his endurance as well: running or walking alongside the wagons when he could have been riding in them, sometimes marching with the foot soldiers for hours on end talking to them about their homes and families, and several rigorous bouts of sparring with Cara, the Minders, and the occasional burly D'Haran soldier who decided to try his hand at besting Lord Rahl. She often wondered how he was even able to stay awake long enough to eat as exhausted as he looked.

Deciding his rest was more important than Zedd's message she shook her head and smiled at the guard. "No, but thank you. It can keep. Lord Rahl needs his rest."

"As you wish, Mother Confessor. I shall inform him of your words when he awakes."

Nodding again she continued on to the end of the row of tents before turning to walk into the forest. She immensely enjoyed the scent of the soil and trees as the camp fell away behind her. As her feet crunched leaves underfoot and she deftly avoided any roots or snarling branches she would see the occasional patrol of D'Haran soldiers who seemed to understand her desire for solitude and did not approach her. Much was the same when she crossed paths with Cara who was making her way through the forest back to camp from whatever patrol she had assigned herself. The Mord-Sith merely nodded and moved on wordlessly. Kahlan briefly marveled the Mord-Sith's seemingly effortless grace as she disappeared as quickly as she had appeared into the dense woods.

As she continued on Kahlan smiled, remembering the handful of occasions she and Richard had stolen away to these very woods to escape from the ever present pressure of leadership and duty that weighed them down in Aydindril. She wished she could share those times with him again, but she was taking Zedd's advice in allowing Richard time to heal and recover from his ordeal before addressing their personal issues.

She shook her head in dismay at the sad state of her relationship with Richard. She was happy that at least Zedd and Richard seemed to have patched up their relationship, though she was ashamed at the spark of jealousy she felt at seeing them happy together. She was just grateful Richard didn't seem to hate her. He was cool and aloof much of the time, but sometimes she wondered. He had spoken with her more often since they'd entered the Midlands, but it was of things unimportant and never anything too personal. But there were moment—brief moments—where she thought she saw him looking at her like the Richard she had first met: happy, innocent, loving.

Like earlier when she had seen him watching her. She had flushed in surprise at the frank look in his eyes. She had seen desire there. She had been nearly caught by surprise at the thrill that ran through her when she'd given him a quick smile and he had returned it. It felt so much like before she'd sent him away she couldn't help but feel invigorated even as she had returned her attention away from him to her duty. Again.

The sound of scraping metal brought her to a halt; muscles tense as she leaned down to allow her hands to hover over the pommels of her knives. Considering what she heard, she decided it had been someone sheathing a sword, not drawing it. Cautiously she crept into the direction she had heard the sound originate. As she came to the edge of a small glen, she pulled up short in surprise.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

"_How the Seeker Richard Cypher was able to overcome the magic of Mother Confessor Kahlan Amnell remains one of the great mysteries of the modern age as both the current Lord Rahl and the Mother Confesor claim ignorance on the matter. Some suspect the House of Rahl discovered the secret to overcoming the Confessor's magic given rumors that Darken Rahl was also immune to a Confessor's touch. Other, more fancifully romantic notions put forth by bards and minstrels claim it was the greatest magic known to exist: love._

_The truth is likely never to be known."_

- Confessors and Seekers IV: Kahlan and Richard, _Feppendreau's Guide to the Mysterious_

Richard stood there with his back to her resting the Sword of Truth against a fallen log before turning his attention to resealing a small bottle in his hand and wrapping it up in a small bit of cloth. She saw he only wore short ankle boots and a pair of black trousers Cara had procured for him, his bare chest showing off the muscles of his back, shoulder, and arms. The strange markings on his skin where barely noticeable and an assortment of scars stood out in pale, puckered relief on his lightly tanned skin. On the log she could see the black shirt he had been wearing earlier alongside a towel that had been obviously set out to dry along side his two bracers. He reached for the pack at his feet, pulling out a maroon shirt before suddenly freezing in mid-motion.

"Kahlan," he said quietly as he rose to his feet.

She stepped forward from her place behind the bush, unsure of what to say. After a moment of uneasy silence between them she gestured vaguely to the sword and his pack. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you, Richard."

"You're not disturbing me. I was just cleaning up." He shrugged draping the shirt in his hand over the log before quickly folding the other one up and stuffing it in to his pack.

"Cleaning up?"

"I was practicing with the sword, earlier. I went to the stream to clean up." He explained, seeming unsure where to look. She didn't blame him. She flushed as she realized she had been staring at his chest and abdomen. Certain she was making him uncomfortable she turned away.

"I…I should go."

"No!" The vehemence is voice surprised her. "I mean, I'd like it if you'd stay. Maybe we can talk?"

She nodded uncertainly before joining him. She tried not to seem too interested in watching him as she enjoyed the interplay of his chest muscles as he quickly pulled on the maroon shirt. He didn't tuck the shirt in, not that she blamed him given the still warm days they were having despite the season. As he finished packing away his kit, she noticed he had shaved and trimmed his hair. It no longer brushed his shoulder blades or hung into his eyes.

For a moment they just looked at one another, tension rising. Suddenly shook his head and leaned back on the fallen tree.

"What?" Kahlan asked. Her confused tone earned her a sound something like a cross between a sigh and strangled laugh from him.

Richard shook his head with a bemused expression. "I had this big speech all planned out in my head. All the things I wanted to say to you. And now that I have you alone, I can't even think of where to start, let alone what to say."

Kahlan smiled in nervous sympathy, knowing she felt the same. There was so much to say, so many things to explain. Her greatest fear was that he would not give her a chance to do so. But his demeanor seemed to say otherwise.

"Me too," she finally admitted. At her words they fell back into silence.

"Sit with me? Please." he finally asked. She quickly sat next to him, noting after she had done so that she had fallen into the old habit of not blocking his access to the sword.

"So…," she trailed off realizing she had no idea what she wanted to say.

"So Markis and Sonja?" he asked. She saw none of the enmity she feared from him on his face. She saw only happy warmth there at the thought of their children.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about them sooner," she interrupted.

He shook his head slightly. "It's all right, Kahlan. I understand."

He glanced away for a moment before returning his eyes to her. "I don't like it much, but I understand. You were afraid, doubted yourself." He sighed. "I just wish I hadn't missed so much time with them. I regret not being there for you or them."

Kahlan felt her eyes water at the pain in his voice. "I'm so sorry, Richard."

"Please don't cry. I didn't say that to hurt you." He reached up and brushed away a lone tear from her cheek. She barely stopped herself from leaning into the brief touch. She sniffed once, nodding her head.

"I know. But it hurts knowing that I denied you your chance at fatherhood and the children their father," she said looking away in shame. "I'll never forgive myself for that."

"Don't blame yourself, Kahlan. Look to the journey ahead, no the path behind," he said earning a small chuckle from her.

"You've been spending too much time with Zedd," she teased with a watery smile. Her tone eased his concerned expression. "I'm glad you and Zedd are friends again. You are, aren't you? You seemed so."

"We are," Richard said. "I hope we are too. Friends, I mean."

She blinked in surprise at his words before nodding, accepting the boundary of the relationship he just laid down even as she felt her heart break at his words. He deserved that much from her. Perhaps one day he would love her once more. She could only hope so. Turning to more pleasant thought she smiled at him.

"I know Markis and Sonja will love having you around."

He raked his fingers through his hair. "I admit I'm nervous about meeting them."

She rested her hand on his forearm reassuringly. "Don't be. I know they'll love you. I've told them so much about you. And Zedd speaks of you often."

"I've been wondering something. About their names, I mean. I understand why you chose Sonja." At his words she frowned in confusion but he seemed not to notice as he continued. "But why did you chose the name Markis. I thought you might pick Nicholas."

Kahlan gasped in surprise. "I almost did. But then I remembered the story you told of your time in the future, before we killed Darken Rahl. I know it seems foolish but I didn't want him to share the name with such an evil creature. Markis just…fit. I'm not sure how to explain it but it just came to me while I was holding him."

She saw him smile as she realized she had a dreamy expression on her face at her remembrance. "It's not foolish. It's a good name."

"Zedd told me once that in some languages it means shining." Kahlan laughed quietly at the memory of the old wizard exaggeratedly praising the name.

"Cara tells me it means 'warlike' in some old D'Haran dialect. Apparently D'Harans take that to be a good sign that he will be a strong leader," he said with a sardonic expression.

Kahlan chuckled. "Yes, Cara seemed quite pleased about the name when she first heard it. She also said Sonja was appropriate so that she may be wise in her duties as a Confessor."

Richard shifted a little to one side, looking a little uncertain. "Has she, I don't know what you call it, manifested her power?"

"Yes. All confessors are born with their abilities," Kahlan explained.

"Has she confessed someone?" Richard asked hesitantly. Kahlan slowly nod in return.

"Yes," Kahlan took in a deep breath in remembered fear.

"It was shortly after you died at Tamarang, about a year later. Two assassins came to kill the children; we think one of Prince Fyren's old allies seeking revenge over his execution. By the time we discovered the plot and reached the children's room, the assassins were dead. The children were both terrified. Markis had a cut on his lip from one of the assassins striking him as he protected Sonja while she confessed the other. The assassins killed one another."

"I'm so sorry," Richard whispered, grasping her shaking hands. She hadn't even realized she was trembling as she recounted the tale, still feeling the terror at the mere thought of losing her children so soon after she had lost him. "It must have been horrible. For all of you."

"I've never been more scared in all my life," Kahlan admitted.

"I'm glad you were there for them, taught them what they needed to do," Richard said.

"Markis was very upset. He wanted to be able to protect his sister so she wouldn't have to use her power." Kahlan said smiling fondly. "He wants to be a great wizard so he can protect people."

"And what about his power?" Richard asked.

"Zedd hasn't taught him any magic that could be dangerous," Kahlan replied, missing the intent of Richard's question. "He's too young."

"I don't mean his magic," Richard said.

"Then what?"

"Kahlan, surely you know," Richard paused as he looked into her confused expression. "Kahlan, Confessors always bear Confessors. Always, without exception."

"Markis isn't a Confessor. Zedd couldn't find any trace of confessor magic in him. We've been carefully to watch him, sent him to the same classes with Sonja when I or Dennee did not have time to instruct them," she explained, panic making her voice rise.

"He is a Confessor, Kahlan," Richard insisted.

Kahlan jerked her hands out of his angrily. "No! He's not. He's not a monster!"

"Of course he's not. Despite the stories you were told, male Confessors aren't inherently evil." Richard grasped her hands once more; running his thumbs over her knuckles to sooth her.

Kahlan stared at him in shock. "How do you know that? How can you be certain?"

Seeing the doubt and fear in her eyes he told her of what he had learned. "Yes, male Confessors have a predisposition towards violence and abuse of their power, but that behavior can be controlled through training and discipline. Magda Searus and the wizards of her time knew this but the devastation caused by the others forced them to adopt the harshest of measures to ensure that the Confessors themselves were not destroyed by the people who feared them." He paused. "I can show you the records in the Keep when we reach Aydindril if you wish. In fact it might be easier if you read them for yourself."

"But there's no mention of this in the books at the palace. Only that a male Confessor must die before they use their power to harm those around them," Kahlan said.

"I know. It was thought this was the best way, to convince the people that the Confessors would not rise up to terrorize them," Richard explained. "The practice wasn't intended to be permanent, only long enough for the people to forget until it was safe again. The Confessors were always meant to be a race unto themselves, guided by the Wizards. But the myth was too strongly ingrained by then and the practice of killing boys became canon."

"Dear spirits," Kahlan whispered in horror. She remembered the brief sickening moment she had considered killing one of the twins upon learning it was a boy.

"Don't be upset. The books do warn that male Confessors need special guidance to control their abilities, more so than females." Richard reassured her. "Even if Markis does lose control I think I may have a way to deal with that. Without harming him."

"How?" Kahlan asked.

"I need to check a few things with Zedd, but essentially by using the quillion."

"Like with Annabelle?"

"Yes, but I'd like to see if we can somehow keep Markis' magic from being lost as well." Richard said. "Zedd tells me his han in strong."

Kahlan nodded at that. "So he says."

"Sonja will need training too." Richard said.

"She takes lessons from Zedd at the Keep," Kahlan replied.

"Yes, but she'll need a sorceress to teach her."

Kahlan furrowed her brow. "Why? Sonja isn't a sorceress."

"I suspect she is, Kahlan," Richard admitted. "At the very least she carries the possibility of bearing a child of magic in addition to her Confessor abilities. With the joining of Rahl and Zorander bloodlines with that of a Confessor it's all but inevitable."

After a moment's thought, Kahlan nodded in agreement. "You're right. That makes sense. I bet that's why Zedd asked her to join Markis for his studies."

"I'm certain that's so." He grinned suddenly.

"What?" Kahlan asked, unable to stop the answering grin on her face.

He shook his head with a chuckle. "Sorry, but I couldn't help thinking we sounded so—so…"

"So much like parents?" She asked with a laugh.

"Like parents," he agreed, eyes meeting her own.

She felt herself just staring at him, studying his face as they smiled at each other, feeling content at him holding her hands, at his closeness. She felt the sorrow rise with in her and sought to push it away. Unable to resist, she pulled him into a tight hug. She felt relief sweep through her as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight as she closed her eyes and buried her nose into his neck, inhaling his scent.

"I missed you," she whispered.

"I missed you, too." His voice was watery and hoarse, barely more than a whisper in return.

She wasn't sure how long they sat there holding one another. She was lost in a world of just him and the forest. She enjoyed the light breeze that caressed them carrying with it the aroma of the forest to her nose to blend in with Richard own scent. The feel of his arms, his muscles, and his hearting beat in her ear as she moved to rest the side of her head to his chest brought a feeling of safety and peace.

When she finally pulled away, she saw that same content look in his eyes, a smile of affection gracing his lips as he rose to his feet.

"I suppose we should get back," he murmured, reluctantly releasing her hands as he did so.

Before she even realized what she was doing, she rose to her feet grasping his head in her hands. "I need you to know something. No matter what, no matter if we argue, or I am angry with you, I need to you to know one thing. I love you. I will always love you." She whispered fiercely.

She leaned in, intending to only kiss him chastely before they departed. As she backed away she felt him pull her close returning her kiss with greater fervor. She could feel his passion, his love, and it ignited her own.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

"_Richard Rahl's ascendancy to Lord Rahl led to a number of changes in how business was conducted at court, most notably Lord Richard's insistence on conducting affairs of state while tending to his beloved woods. Many considered this change a brilliant move as few officious politicians desired to undertake the rigors of the forests and thus allowed the Master of D'Hara to speak freely with the noble house Lords and Ladies without interference or protocol getting in the way of discussions."_

- Chapter 27: The House of Rahl from _Feppendreau's Guide to the Mysterious_

Cara hurried her pace through the forest refusing to admit the rising tide of worry within. She knew Richard was more than capable of taking care of himself under normal circumstance. He was the Lord Rahl after all. That alone was enough proof of his capability. But recent events were anything but normal. She knew part of her pace was her annoyance at him for slipping away from his guards, his protection when she, the Mord-Sith, or the Minders were unavailable for such duty. She had been tempted to punish the guard who had unknowingly allowed Richard to slip away unnoticed, but decided against it. She knew how easily the Lord Rahl could disappear when he set his mind to it.

Still the extra tension only added to her pace even as she reasoned out where he would go. He had told her many stories of these woods, how he had enjoyed hunting there or merely walking the old wood to momentarily regain his humble beginnings. She had been annoyed at the constant talk of the woods then, but had indulged him as at the time it seemed to be the only thing to bring him joy. Now she was glad she had listened knowing where he would be.

Remembering that she had seen Kahlan headed towards the same destination only added to her unease. She had suggested privately to each that they needed to talk to one another, preferably sooner rather than later. But she had silently hoped for later, after they had reached Aydindril. She reasoned their impending battle would likely be far less bloody with the knowledge of their children being nearby. And if nothing else, she could use the D'Haran forces to spirit Richard away back to D'Hara if things went poorly.

She lurched to a stop as she came around a large tree, blinking in surprise for a moment at what she saw.

Richard and Kahlan were kissing one another passionately, oblivious to the world around them. Cara thought they never looked happier. Glancing at the late afternoon light, she sighed at feeling a slight twinge of guilt for what she had to do. The evening meal was fast approaching and Richard's absence would raise a furor let alone the Mother Confessor's absence.

"Lord Rahl! Mother Confessor! I'm glad I found you." She loudly announced as she strode into the clearing. She pointedly ignored the couple practically jumping apart from one another. Richard quickly went about buckling the Sword of Truth about his waist while Kahlan tidied her dress.

Cara smiled innocently as she looked back and forth between them as Richard slung the small pack onto his back. "I take it negotiations between you are going satisfactorily?"

Cara ignored the hint of crimson on Kahlan's face and barely suppressed the smile that tugged at her lips. Richard coughed and checked the sword before nodding. Cara noted the slight flush of crimson on his neck. "Uh, yes, Cara. Negotiations are going well."

She had to admit she was pleased Richard smoothly fell into the excuse she gave them without much indication as to their real activities. There was a time the pair would have been sputtering like daft fools, stuttering out implausible excuses. "While I appreciate you efforts to negotiate away from the interference of councilors, some may misconstrue your private deliberations as personally…sordid. Perhaps continuing your discussion at the camp would be wise. Until we reach Aydindril."

Kahlan smiled and nodded her head graciously adopting an exaggerated tone, willingly playing along with the Mord-Sith's plan. "Yes, Mistress Cara, you're right. We wouldn't want people to get the wrong idea."

"Well then, may I have the honor of escorting the Mother Confessor back to camp?" Richard asked, extending his arm to Kahlan.

"But of course, Lord Rahl." Kahlan replied looping her arm through his own in a decidedly less than proper closeness dictated by etiquette. But then who would dare question the Mother Confessor let alone the Lord Rahl, Cara reasoned as she followed after them with amusement.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

"_It is said only the Master of D'Hara can command the Barren Wolves during the Time of the Eternal. Seek his council in the final hours and pray to the Creator his heart is not fallow."_

- Epilogue, _Doxie's Inviolable Exigency_.

As they came around the tent, the young guard there paled and looked as if he were about to faint. He quickly glanced at the tent opening and then back at the trio. Richard smiled reassuringly at the guard. "How are things in camp?"

"All is quiet, my Lord." The D'Haran replied, straitening himself up. He looked like he would love nothing more than a gar to swoop out of the sky and end his misery.

"Excellent," Richard paused for a moment. "If any one should ask, the Mother Confessor and I have been in negotiations."

"Yes, Lord Rahl." The guard looked confused as he answered hesitantly. Briefly glancing down at their interlocked arms, he seemed to visibly brighten. "Of course, Lord Rahl. It's only natural you would wish to spend time with Lady Rahl."

"Lady who?" Richard's confused question was cut off by the sound of Zedd calling his name.

"Richard! Richard!"

"Zedd, over here."

A moment later the old wizard came around the tent, long white hair askew as his robes flapped behind him. "There you are, Richard. I swear you are harder to find than a night wisp's teacup. Come. Come." He tugged them along until they were back at the campfire before Richard finally wrenched is arm free.

"Zedd, what's wrong?" Richard asked, dropping the pack he carried to his feet in a small puff of dust.

"I'm not certain, but that wolf of yours is acting strangely," the old wizard said. He leaned in close, looking warily over his shoulder at the animal that now stood looking northward into the mountains they had left several weeks back, ears pointed in alertness. "Richard, Nokai bears the mark of the Eternal."

Kahlan gasped in surprise. "What? Only the barren wolves bear that mark."

"That's what…"

"No, it's not the mark of the Eternal," Richard interrupted.

"Then what is it?" Zedd asked with a suspicious look.

"It's me," Richard replied. His eyes lifted to scan the distant peaks where dark clouds ominously hid their summit as Zedd momentarily sputtered inarticulately in disbelief.

"Impossible. You were dead when the first wolves were seen," Zedd noted bringing Richard's attention fully focused on his grandfather.

"Where do the stories of barren wolves originate?" Richard asked calmly.

"D'Hara, Lord Rahl," Cara supplied. "From the time of the first Lord. Every D'Haran knows the stories of the great hunts to eliminate the barren wolves. The last hunt was millennia ago. That is how we knew how to kill them when they first reappeared."

Zedd frowned at Cara's words. "So? Make your point."

"The wolves previously appeared at the time the last Fleshweaver arose. The last time the proper magic was in conjunction to allow for their creation." Richard explained. "It doesn't matter that I was dead, I released the magic that created the possibility of the wolves. Not the Eternal."

Zedd seemed dubious by the explanation but remained silent as he gave a nod of acknowledgement. Richard grasped his grandfather's arm and squeezed gently. "We'll discuss it more later. But I need you to remain here. Don't let anyone interfere. All right?"

Zedd's eyes narrowed as his face pinched in suspicion. "What are you doing?"

A sudden look of resignation and sadness came to Richard's face. "What I must. It's time for me to free the Lodi."

"But Richard…"

Richard ignored Zedd a he turned to Cara, gesturing her to join him. "Cara, no one is to interfere. No matter what. Understood?"

The pair stared at one another for several long moments before the Mord-Sith nodded once and stepped between Richard and the others Agiels flicking up in warning to the gathered troops.

Without further word, he strode away. Kahlan started to follow but was brought up short by Cara's none to gentle shove.

"No one may pass," Cara stated coldly.

"Cara!"

"No one may pass," the Mord-Sith repeated, chilling Kahlan to the bone with the deadly look in her eyes. Kahlan considered briefly whether to argue her case but a glance at Zedd confirmed her suspicions that such a gesture would be futile. Cara could not be reasoned with. She did not exist at this time, only Mistress Cara, protector to the Lord Rahl. "Not even the Lord Rahl's mate."

Stepping back beside Zedd, Kahlan couldn't help but wondering aloud. "What's going on?"

"I don't know."

Over the Mord-Sith's shoulder Kahlan could see Richard kneel down next to Nokai, running his hand in a gentling pat along the wolf's side, his lips moving as if speaking to the her. It was an odd little mannerism they'd noticed him do many times since departing the Northlands. After a moment he rose, staring off into the distant mountains again. They could see his nostrils flair as he inhaled deeply when the wind picked up.

After several minutes, Nokai rubbed against Richard's leg before turning and trotting towards them. Richard never moved, still staring off into the distance as if in a trance. Kahlan held her breath as the wolf came to stand in front of her. Not knowing what to expect, she stood stock still as the animal sniffed her hands, dress, and boots before backing away slightly.

Then Nokai did the oddest thing Kahlan could ever recall seeing. The wolf stretched out her front paws, one crossing the other before lowering her head and closing her eyes, holding that position, as if bowing to her. When the wolf's right brown eye peered up at her in a strangely inquisitive expression, Kahlan felt compelled to bow to Nokai in return.

Instantly the wolf returned to her feet and ambled away, tail waving happily back and forth, to return to Richard's side. Nokai leaned up against his leg, earning an affectionate pat before he stroked his hand along the animal's entire spine, the symbols on his body suddenly flaring to life as his eyes flashed to the bright hue of magic that Kahlan had come to associate with the Eternal. Likewise, the glyph on Nokai's could be seen to glow as the wolf stepped forward.

Nokai tilted her head back and let loose a long, loud, piercing how that seemed to cut through to the spirit as Richard tilted his head slightly back, lips moving.

Most of those gathered jumped at the haunting sounds from the mountains as dozens of wolves answered Nokai's call. As Nokai let out another forlorn howl the wind picked up and the air around them began to feel energized. The answering call was much closer, impossibly close.

"What's he doing?" Kahlan whispered.

"Calling the wolves," Cara replied, "Like the Lord Rahl was said to have done in the old stories: _'like the storm, the Lord's call brought them forth, and the barren wolves hunted no more'_."

As Nokai let loose a third howl, the ground began to tremor slightly. In the distance horses could be heard to panic, but their ties held strong as their handlers attempted to calm them. The concerned voices of men could be heard to arise as well. This time there was no returning howls, but instead the snarls and growls as numerous dark forms broke free from the woods at impossibly fast speeds, all headed directly towards Richard and Nokai.

Several guards moved to protect Richard, Cara intercepting and dispatching two quickly, but several others were beyond her reach.

"No!"

The power behind that shouted order cut through the gathered crowd.

Kahlan cried out as the magic sliced through her making her ears ring painfully, but it was not enough to cut out the cries of pain and fear. After a moment, the feeling passed and she found Zedd had held her from falling to her knees. Her skin felt cold as if whipped by the frigid air of the Northlands once more. She glanced over to the Mord-Sith. While Cara bore no obvious signs of discomfort, Kahlan could see her experimentally twitch her fingers as if annoyed by the curiously stinging sensation.

Around them a number of D'Haran solders were bent over or kneeling in obvious pain. Some were retching whiles others had blood running from their nose or mouth or ears. Those few who had violated Richard's orders lay unmoving though it was difficult to tell if they were dead or not.

"Do not interfere."

Kahlan and the others winced, a few soldier crying out in pain, as the magic behind the words echoed through their minds.

In the brief time the magic Richard had unleashed swept over them, the barren wolves were now upon him stopping short of where Nokai and he stood. The beasts were snarling, growling, snapping, eyes glowing frighteningly in the growing gloom. Their twisted forms seemed more frightful when they bared their teeth.

Nokai snapped in return, setting of a new wave of growls and guttural sounds.

"Come, my friends."

The wolves' behavior suddenly changed, growls and snarls and curled lips giving way to panting and swishing tails and strange yips as Richard held out his hands beckoning the creatures toward him. One by one the wolves rubbed again Nokai, some sharing a brief nuzzling, before proceeding to Richard where they received pets and hugs of affection and praise for their hunt. Soon some twenty of the creatures were circling him, almost playful, Nokai among them, as Richard laughed and rewarded the tricksters who romped and bounded around him.

After a time the pack seemed to settle, glowing eyes fixed on Richard and Nokai.

"You hunted well my friends."

The group collectively whined. Kahlan felt a chill along her spine, remembering the last time she had heard those words. But she was also relieved, realizing Richard's intent to put to rest these barren wolves. She better understood the poor creatures' origins now than she had the first time she saw Richard dispatch them.

Quietly the wolves accepted his touch and like before in the Northlands they soon lay down as if but to sleep. This time, though, their symbols did not stop glowing. Finally only Nokai remained sitting on her haunches before Richard. He kneeled down before her, scratching the wolf's ears, as Nokai leaned towards him pressing her head into his chest.

After a moment, Richard pushed himself to his feet, a look of sadness crossing his face before it settled into an emotionless mask. He raised his hands, chanting. The earth rumbled underneath their feet as the storm clouds above the mountains swiftly moved over them, wind tugging and pulling at clothes and hair. His chanting grew louder as lightning rippled across the sky, the hairs on the back of the arms and necks of those present rising as the air around them seemed to crackle with energy.

Richard's sudden shouted as he fell to his knees and smashed his hands onto the ground. A bolt of lightning pierced the earth a few feet in front of him. A rippling wave of energy emanated from the strike out knocking many off their feet. Kahlan barely managed to keep Zedd from falling and herself only remained upright thanks to Cara's swift and strong grasp.

From the lightning strike smoke of black, green, and white wisps rose coalescing into a swirling mass as Richard once more raised his arms upward as if clawing his way to the sky, no longer chanting but silent, the symbols on his flesh glowing brightly. After a moment he fell forward again, many of those watching flinching as if expecting another surge of power. Instead Richard merely touched the glowing symbol on Nokai's head, his hand glowing as he stroked along the wolf's prone form leaving behind a gossamer trail of light.

Kahlan gasped as ghostly figures arose from the bodies, wolves untwisted from the magic that had corrupted their flesh. They were once more the magnificent animals they had once been in life save for their translucence and the faint greenish glow she had come to associate with the Underworld. The wolves started to nip and play with each other for a moment before dashing off through the swirling mass. Before reaching the tree line their ghostly yips and howls faded along with their misty forms.

The form that rose from Nokai was not that of a wolf but a comely woman with one brown and one blue eye with shoulder length brown hair and flawless pale skin wearing a simple dress. The ghostly form gazed at Kahlan with an impassive expression nodding once before turning to Richard.

"I release the Lodi from the bond," Richard said, voice roughened and gravelly.

The smile the came to the woman's face changed her entirely from plain woman to one of great beauty. She said nothing but gently touched his cheek with her hand in gratitude. She then quickly spun away and ran for the smoky mass disappearing as soon as she went through.

Another flash ripped through the clearing. Kahlan blinked to clear her eyes, the early evening gloom seeming almost full night in the aftermath of the light and the still raging thunderstorm over head.

"Richard!"

Cara's near panicked shout startled her as she looked over to find Richard fallen over to the side, arms grasped around himself as spasms ran through his frame. With the Mord-Sith's help he sat up, coughs racking his frame and flecks of blood appearing on his lips. Sitting beside him, Kahlan rested his head on her shoulder worriedly pushing the sweat drenched hair off his forehead. She ignored the stain of blood she smeared over him as she did so. His glassy eyes didn't seem to see them.

Kahlan was more than relieved when Zedd's kneeled down a handful of soldiers with torches behind him providing adequate light in the growing darkness. He dipped fingers into a small pouch. Withdrawing them they were covered in a dark powder, a pungent aroma making Kahlan's eyes water. He held them under Richard's nose. Almost instantly Richard started coughing, the dazed expression leaving his face as he wrinkled his nose and tried to push the wizard's arm away with a bloodied hand.

"Richard?" Kahlan asked worriedly.

"I'm…," his words trailed off as a violent cough shook his frame. After they ceased he leaned back into her in obviously relief. "I'll be okay."

"Of course you will," Zedd replied with a grin. He shook his finger at Richard with a stern expression, ignoring the way his grandson's eyes focused on his finger with near comically intense interest. "I don't know what you did, but you won't do it again. Understood, Wizard Rahl?"

Richard chuckled at the admonition a tired smile crossing his features. "Yes, Wizard Zorander."

"Good." Zedd lifted Richard's hands into his own, noting the blood on them. He carefully ran his fingers over the wounds and nodded to himself.

"Zedd, what's wrong?" Kahlan asked.

"Nothing. We better get these wounds attended to," Zedd replied holding up Richard's hand to show her. "I'll need some bandages."

"Why not use magic to heal him?" Cara asked.

"Because the wounds are what is left of the runes Melantha marked me with," came Richard's tired voice, interrupting Zedd before he could answer.

"What happened to them?"

"I used them to set things right for the Lodi," Richard explained. No one had an idea what he meant, but silently agreed further explanation could wait.

"Who was that—that woman we saw? Was that Nokai?" Kahlan asked.

"Yes."

"But she was a wolf!" Cara protested.

Richard slowly shook his head. "No, long ago the Lodi were shape shifters. The animal they assumed was based on their bloodlines. Nokai's line is of the wolf."

"But then why didn't she reveal herself before. Why did she die?" Kahlan asked.

Richard sighed obviously pained at what he was about to say, "Because she was barren wolf, like the rest."

"But she didn't look like them."

Richard looked down in shame. "She was. When I turned the others, she did too, but she was somehow protected by a bond her people made with the wizards from long ago, from a pact to protect the lands from the rise of dark magic, particularly Flehsweavers."

"The bonding wizard," Zedd murmured. "Alric Rahl."

Richard sat up slightly, wincing. "I don't understand all of it, but it seems to be true. When the Eternal reached out to change them, for a moment we—we connected. She took what she learned to find help."

"Us." Kahlan said.

He nodded wearily, grasping Zedd's arm gently. "Zedd, I need to destroy the bodies. There can be nothing left."

Zedd looked over the remains before agreeing. "Wizard's Fire should do."

"The ashes need to be collected as well. They're too dangerous."

"Why collect the ashes?" Kahlan asked.

"The magic is in the blood." Richard said quietly, staring at Nokai's body. "The blood is in the bones."

"Few things touched by such powerful magic rarely do so without the magic leaving its mark. It's too dangerous to simply bury the bodies without safeguards. The magic could seep into the land causing who knows what sort of havoc." Zedd explained, arms waving towards the woods exaggeratedly.

"Like the Wailing Woods of Tamarang," Cara noted earning an agreeing nod from Zedd.

"I'll take care of it, my boy," the old wizard said. "You need to rest and recover your strength. Eat something while I go find an appropriate container."


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

"_Why use magic when a locked chest will do? Now a magically locked chest is another matter entirely. That which is touched by great magic is permanently changed in ways we may never know."_

– Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander, Lectures in Modern Wizardry.

Richard smiled bemusedly at Minder Laire as Zedd bustled into the tent and proceeded to drop a heavy chest beside Richard's pack. It seemed a plain simple wood chest two feet long by one foot wide with heavy iron casings and locking mechanism. Its contents were definitely not so simple. And Richard suspected Zedd had added some magical protection to it as well, considering what it contained.

Dusting his hands, Zedd turned to them looking expectantly. Richard merely nodded at the healer, who smiled briefly in return before gathering her kit and departing with a quick bow.

"So, how are you feeling?" Zedd asked as he gently grasped Richard's hands, carefully looking over the bandages and his skin.

"Fine Zedd," Richard said resignedly allowing his grandfather to continue his inspection of his arms, thankful he'd already put his trousers and sleeveless undershirt back on before his grandfather had finished attending to the bodies of the Lodi. He knew the marking on his forehead stood out in angry relief, a bloody red pattern, if the wounds on his hands, feet, and chest were any indication.

Seemingly satisfied Zedd peered at him closely. "Really?"

Richard smiled weakly, knowing his obvious fatigue wouldn't pass unnoticed. Gesturing to the chunk of wood that had become an impromptu stool, Richard sank down to his bedding with a relieved sigh, muscles sore and head aching. "All things considered, yes."

Zedd merely nodded silently, watching him for a time. Richard waited him out patiently already guessing at what his grandfather wanted to say.

"So, how did you do it?" He asked waving his hand vaguely towards the chest. "Open a rift."

"I don't know," Richard answered honestly. At the skeptical look, he sighed, deciding to give to his concerns. "I think I still possess a little of the magic the Eternal."

Zedd nodded knowingly. "More than a little I'd wager. You shouldn't have been able to do that. No one should be able to do that."

"I know," Richard said quietly. "The question is what do I do?"

"I'm afraid I have no answers for you."

Richard nodded, expecting that answer. He scratched his chin as he noted the old man's lingering gaze. "Zedd have there been anything odd happening in the Midlands these last few years? Magically odd I mean."

"Quite a few," Zedd replied with a nod. "We've been keeping track of them at the Keep."

"I'll need to see the reports after I've settled business in D'Hara."

Suspicion once more settled into Zedd's face "Why?"

"Because I need to fix my mistakes," Richard replied. He nodded over at the chest. "I need to find the rest of the barren wolves and the other creatures that the Eternal brought forth. That and other things. I've overheard the men talk about Tamarang, about what goes on there. And other places."

"Ah, thinking like a wizard."

"And a leader."

"And a leader," Zedd agreed. "But why so soon?"

Richard took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I'm not certain how long I'll be here. Alive, I mean."

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

"Zedd, this body was recreated through magic, dark magic," Richard said. "Surely you've noted the changes in my appearance since we left the Northlands."

"I have. Before tonight I could barely even see the symbols on you skin anymore," Zedd allowed. "But it could simply mean you were healing. That vile woman's magic bleeding away."

"I don't think it's that simple." Richard held out his left hand to his grandfather, wiggling the fingers. "What's missing?"

Zedd leaned over and peered closely before sitting back with evident surprise. "The glyphs are gone. Is the larger one on your palm gone as well?"

Richard shook his head. "I'm not sure how it works, but I think—I think when I use the Eternal's power, particularly in taking life, it heals this body, heals me. But at the same time, I can feel the power lessen afterwards. Like I lose part of the power in exchange."

"Curious. And dangerous," Zedd looked speculatively at him. "It does seem to affect you quite strongly, weaken you each time. You fear it may kill you?"

"I don't know, but I don't think I have much time in this world," Richard said. "I fear I may only have a half life."

"Richard, no. There's no way to know what will happen," Zedd cautioned. "Don't allow your fear to dominate your thoughts."

"I'm not afraid to die, Zedd. I just don't want leave you or Kahlan or the children or Cara or…I don't want thing left unfinished like before."

"And so long as you live your life you won't, my boy."

"But…"

"Not buts, Wizard Rahl. Let me give you some advice I learned from a gentle wise man. All we can do is make the best choices we can and move forward with each step."

"Who said that?"

"You did." Zedd replied with an impish grin.

Richard furrowed his brow. "I don't remember saying that."

"Well," Zedd drawled. "I might have paraphrased a bit."

The men chuckled to themselves.

"Zedd, please don't tell Kahlan about this. I don't want this between us."

"Secrets rarely keep their silence. Especially with Confessors."

"Please, Zedd."

"Very well."

"Thank you."

Zedd rose to his feet, smoothing out his long robes. "Well I should get some rest. I'll not be keeping the Mother Confessor waiting outside any longer. I'm surprised she's given me this long with you."

Richard smiled at that. "Good night, Zedd."

The flaps of the tent didn't even flutter close before Kahlan and Cara swept in, each looking concerned.

"I'm fine," Richard told them before either could even ask. The two women exchanged annoyed looks, Kahlan surprisingly gesturing towards Cara.

The Mord-Sith nodded at her with what looked suspiciously like a grateful smile. "Lord Rahl, I wanted you to know that none of the men were seriously hurt. A few maybe unable to perform their duties for a couple of days but the healers assure me they will all recover."

"Good, I'll see to them tomorrow," Richard looked unhappy at hearing of those injured.

"A contingent of Mord-Sith and four Minders arrived while Minder Laire was attending to you. We need to attend to the ceremony soon to welcome the new sisters," Cara said ignoring the questioning look Kahlan gave both of them as Richard nodded his understanding.

"Where are they gathered?" He asked.

"The People's Palace," Cara replied, pausing to glance over at Kahlan before continuing. "The ceremony may take more time than usual given the number involved."

"How many Sisters?"

"Twenty-one."

Richard blinked in astonishment earning a confirming nod from the Mord-Sith at his questioning look.

"It has been a number of years, Lord Rahl," Cara reminded him gently.

"Of course, send word for them begin preparations. We'll return to the palace at the next new moon."

Cara seemed surprised at the timing. "So soon after we arrive in Aydindril?"

"I should be sufficiently healed by then to partake in the ceremony. If not, we'll defer it another month. The sooner it is done, the better." Richard said earning a pleased look from Cara.

"As you wish, Lord Rahl."

"Anything else, Cara?"

"No Richard. Bethe and Elaine will be outside if you need them," she informed him.

"Thank you, Cara. Get some rest."

"And you." She smiled briefly at Kahlan as she left the tent.

Once the flaps of the tent swished closed behind Cara's departure, Kahlan moved to sit next to him on his bedding instead of the chunk of wood serving as a stool. She took one his bandaged hands in her own, seemingly inspecting it for a moment.

"So you're all right?"

"I will be," he assured her, enjoying the planes and shadows of her face cast by the nearby oil lamp.

"I was worried," she admitted, looking at him, allowing him to see her fear. "I was afraid I'd lost you again so soon after we got you back."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, but the wolves needed to be dealt with," he said. Seeing her look he explained his reasons. "The wolves would have gathered to attack sooner or later. They were being drawn by Nokai's presence. And my own."

"So that's it? No more barren wolves?"

"Not in this area. I still need to find the few that are out there," he replied. "I can feel them, not many. But some. And not for a time. I need to recover and deal with some issues in D'Hara."

"Like the Mord-Sith?"

He heard the unasked question and the shock at knowing that he employed the Sisters of the Agiel as the House of Rahl had done for generations. "Yes, like the Mord-Sith. They're necessary Kahlan. I can't explain it now, but know that they _are_ necessary."

Seeing his determined expression, she nodded allowing the topic to pass for now.

"Nokai was very beautiful," she noted. "Are the Lodi really dead? All of them?"

"Yes, she was." Richard replied sadly. "The Lodi are not all dead but the bloodlines are so weak I doubt any Lodi will remain in another generation or two. At least ones that can shape shift."

"I'm sorry," she said giving him a gentle hug before resting her head on his shoulder. "I know she was your friend."

She noticed the heavy chest Zedd had brought earlier. "Is that them?"

"Yes."

"What will you do with it?"

"Lock it away in the Wizard's Keep for now. Until a better solution can be found."

"I'm sure you'll find one. You always do."

"Hmm. Not always." He yawned.

"You're tired. I should go."

"I'd like it if you would stay." He said tiredly. "Just to sleep." He added hastily, earning a small laugh from her.

"All right," she decided. She settled in beside him resting her head on his shoulder. In minutes they were both laying there, content, neither sleeping. Richard huffed an amused sound.

"What?" Kahlan asked, unable to stop the giggle that arose from her.

"I thought this would feel…"

"Awkward?"

He chuckled softly. "Yeah."

She rose up on one elbow, looking down on him with a hopeful smile. "And is it?"

He smiled back warmly. "Not at all. You?"

Kahlan allowed herself to slip down beside him again, reveling in the warmth of his body. "No, it feels right."

Kahlan smiled as she felt his lips brush her forehead. "Love you."

"Love you, too."

_He tread through the familiar idyllic forest the sound of the pond guiding him to his destination. As he came into the small glen he was not surprised to find the familiar woman standing at the pond, staring at it._

"_I was wondering if you would come here, Richard," she said._

_He shook his head in bemusement at the silky tone, knowing it for the deception it was, as he came to stand beside her. _

"_Why wouldn't I? I created it after all," he noted simply._

_He saw her lips twist into a sneer at his words. "You're a fool."_

"_Maybe," he conceded. "But you—you're…"_

"_A monster?" She tilted her head slightly at that looking him over, blue eyes glittering with malevolence. "What does that make you, Skinflayer?"_

"_I don't know, but I'm not yours to command."_

"_You will always be mine, Richard, my Skinflayer so long as my magic courses through you." She laughed gently. "If not you, then your descendants will serve me."_

_Richard turned to look at her finally and shook his head. "No. I intend to eradicate the magic we unleashed, Eternal. It will end with me."_

_The Eternal looked uncertain for the first time. Frightened even. "If you do as you say, you will die."_

"_We all die Eternal. Even you."_

"_I am as Eternal as the Creator and the Keeper! I was old when they were but mere idle thoughts! You think to destroy me? Impossible." The Eternal laughed cruelly at that._

_Richard nodded at that. "Perhaps, but is it any more impossible than knowing exactly what you are?"_

_The Eternal's laughter ended at that, suspicion flaring on the face it bore. _

_Richard smiled a little. "Didn't think anyone could figure it out did you?"_

"_I won't go back!"_

"_I wouldn't know how to send you back anyway," Richard replied. He shrugged. "I'm just going to ensure you can't manifest again."_

"_We shall see, Richard Skinflayer." She turned away from him to stare out into the forest. "You had so much potential."_

"_So did you."_

_At his words, the Eternal seemed uncertain. A flash of brief wonder and hope passed over familiar features before settling into a spiteful mask of anger and hate. For that brief moment Richard hoped the Eternal would come to understand his reasons, to see what It's own path could be. _

"_I will haunt you the rest of your days and nights," she promised. "You will suffer."_

_And the moment of hope passed. Perhaps someday the Eternal would understand. But it would not be today._

_Richard nodded at her words resolute in his decision. "So long as no others suffer from your hands, that is enough. But it is here you will abide for eternity."_

"_Never," she hissed. "You will suffer, Richard! I will whisper into your mind all the evil and misdeeds of the world until you see it for what it is. You will come to despise life."_

_Richard shook his head sadly. With one last look over his shoulder he walked away. "I'm sorry, Eternal. When you understand, call me. I will come."_

The last thing Richard remembered as he came out of the haze of sleep was the sounding of the Eternal's screams. He sighed heavily as he opened his eyes, blinking in surprise at seeing Kahlan's concerned face above him. It was disconcerting given the Eternal had chosen her form, her face to haunt him.

"Are you okay?" She asked, gently running a hand over his forehead.

He nodded slowly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," she assured him. "You're all right?"

He smiled slightly. "I will be, once we get home."

Fin.


End file.
